World of Winx
by Rosalite
Summary: The girls & I, Acadia Jones, are elite spies. Being a spy has its perks; advanced gadgets, all-expense trips around the world. But if trying to save the world from a new super threat isn't hard enough, we got other things on our plate; surviving high school, cooperating w/ the male-spy Specialists. Our world's a big place & anything can turn for the worse. But we don't scare easy…
1. Introduction

**_Full Summary:_ **_The girls & I, Acadia Jones, are elite spies. Being a spy has its perks; advanced gadgets, all-expense trips around the world. But if trying to save the world from a new super threat isn't hard enough, we got other things on our plate; surviving high school, cooperating w/ the male-spy Specialists, rivaling with the Trix, the evil assassins from ALFEA's rival organization who have a mission of their own and will kill anyone who gets in their way. And when an elite organization gets involved in the mix and turns all of our worlds around, unlikely alliances, friendships, romances, and betrayals are made for the good AND the worst. Surprises are always around the corner in the spy biz, and not even we are prepared for everything in the road to come. Our world's a big and dangerous place and anything can go disastrously wrong at any given moment, especially with multiple forces planning our demise in the shadows. But don't cut us out of the game just because we're girls. Send us to hell and back, but we won't back out. We know what we signed up for, so wimping out is so not an option. Our new enemy doesn't waste time or play games but then again, neither do we. I won't lie and say we're prepared for all the shit we're about to face—not even close. But we have a secret weapon that'll push us forward no matter: our fighting spirit. And as long as we can depend on each other (Specialists included), there's no obstacle we can't overcome._

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 **A/N: Here's my newest World-of-Winx fairy-couture Winx Club creation! I'm super excited! I've literally been planning this fan fiction for a few months now. I actually came up with the idea BEFORE World of Winx was released in November 2016, but I'm glad I waited to publish it because the series gave me some new ideas. I know, I know. I already have a Winx Club fan fic out, but I've been dreaming of writing this one forever. Plus, things are happening every day, and you never know what tomorrow will bring. And I would hate to not get a chance to publish this. Even if it's just one chapter.**

 **I absolutely LOVE World of Winx! All the way back in November of 2016, I fell in love with it. The animation was just so clean and professional and the plot was more mature. I liked seeing the Winx in action without their magic—they were so badass! Thus, the series gave me some inspiration for this story. See, though I really liked World of Winx, I fell like the spy and magic elements…** _ **clashed.**_ **I wanted World of Winx to be some kind of spy/detective or police/crime drama show. I wanted to see the Winx fight for justice, but in a different way. I thought that was the whole point of the spin-off. But once the girls got Dreamix, all the spy stuff was just outright unneeded, ya know. And that was unfortunate for me, because I thought the spy parts were the most thrilling, but that got ruined once Dreamix rolled around. Seriously, I wanted the whole thing to be some kind of teenage spy drama. I wanted the Winx to be serious in that aspect. But they weren't. Thus, I decided to write this story. No Dreamix, no Magix, no magic.**

 **So, I'm guessing this is the first World of Winx story on this site? I haven't seen any…**

 **I wanted to carry my OC over into this story, because I love her character and you guys have told me relatable she is. Okay, let's see how this works. Be sure to leave some feedback so I can see how I did.**

 **(Sorry if this is a little choppy. I'm BAD with first chapters).**

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"Let's get ready to go in, ladies."

Bloom Peters, aka Agent Wildfire in the field and the leader of our unit, clapped her hands together in a _chop-chop_ manner. With her blazing carrot-red hair and black catsuit streaked with blue, she put Black Widow to shame. "Tecna, report," she said, sitting down on one of the seats that sided the touch-screen table in the center of the floor.

Tecna Zenith, Agent Digital Defender (Digit for short), our unit's nerd-slash-genius, swiped her finger across the wide touch screen, pulling up a giant grid of Manhattan. "According to Director Faragonda's intel, this is the location of the coordinates," she reported, zooming into the quadrant where a red light flashed nonstop. She focused her beautiful teal eyes on the screen. "Forwarding directions to you, Aisha," she said over her shoulder, pushing aside some hair that had managed to free itself from her asymmetrical bob-styled hairdo. She tapped on an electric blue box and dragged it across the screen into a corner. "Done."

Aisha Andros, Agent Titanic Tides, our go-to girl who was driving the Winxmobile, held up a thumbs-up without taking her eyes off the road as the same grid of the city appeared in the in-dash navigation widescreen up front. "Got it." She accelerated a little, progressing through the rainy streets of Midtown Manhattan. With flawless brown skin and wavy dark-brown hair that was pulled up in a flowing ponytail, Aisha was the muscles of the group—no lie, I once saw her take out a guy with a bobby pin.

Bloom glanced around the table at the rest of us. "Okay, girls. What do we know about the Comet Clan so far?" she inquired.

The brown-eyed blond sitting beside me, Stella Solaria, Agent Sirius Supernova, stomped her foot under the table. "It's so early!" she whined for the umpteenth time, pouting. "It's _three in the_ morning! And I haven't had my caramel macchiato yet!" See, as the daughter of one of New York City's richest businessmen, Stella was…well…How do I put it? Oh yeah. _Spoiled._ And though we'd been on countless night missions, the wealthy blond still didn't seem accustomed with the whole _normal by day_ , _spy by night_ thing.

I kicked her in the shin. "Shut up already," I hissed, "and don't start that 'I'm tired' shit because we all know you were binge watching _The Real Housewives_ before the director contacted us. You should be used to this by now anyways."

I, Acadia Renee Valerie Jones—my codename being Wind Dancer—was officially annoyed (which wasn't really anything new). I'd been this way ever since I found out about Mom's new boyfriend, Diablo, this morning. The last thing I needed was being introduced to yet _another_ piece of shit that managed to weasel into my mother's life, making our situation even more complicated. And trust me, Diablo was nothing more than a handsome no-good motherfucker, just like the rest of 'em.

"Well, based off the CIA's database, the Comet Clan's a foreign crime gang from Russia," reported Tecna, her fingers flying across the large screen as she pulled up several different databanks. Being the computer wizard of the unit, Tecna was an expert hacker and could access _any_ highly encrypted file within a matter of seconds. "They arrived here in New York City back in 2005 and have been proven responsible for several assaults and acts of terrorism towards other crime organizations, none of them being American."

"SYS?" guessed me and Aisha simultaneously, both of us referring to the big incident with an Roman hacking group that happened a few months earlier.

Tecna frowned deeply. "There's no proof that the Comet Clan was responsible for the explosion."

Stella rested her elbows on the table. "So they have beef with other foreigners," she yawned, waving way the detail as if it was no big deal. "That doesn't mean anything."

"Wrong, Stella. It could mean a lot, actually," corrected Musa Melody, Agent Sonic Siren, the Asian beauty seated on Tecna's right. Her dark eyes focused on the screen as Tecna pulled up more information on the Comet Clan. Believe me, this girl was just as musical as her name, if not _more_. From guitars to drums (she and Aisha practiced together sometimes), from hand bells to bagpipes, there was _nothing_ Musa couldn't play.

"But that _does_ explain why they proposed the offer," spoke up Flora Linphea, Agent Spring Flower, stirring some sugar into her tea (that's right. Thanks to Tecna's upgrades, the Winxmobile had a built-in high-tech beverage maker that offered dozens of dozens of different types of teas and coffees—not counting the exotic kinds—that could be brewed in a matter of seconds). As the peacemaker and pacifist of the group, Flora was soft-spoken, nature-loving, considerate, often shy, and genuine. When out together, people usually confused the two of us as sisters since we both shared the same tan skin, though I possessed shoulder-length black hair and silver-ish blue eyes, while Flora's light-brown hair flowed down to her butt and her eyes were deep-deep green (I'd been envious of her natural beauty ever since third grade. But then again, _all_ of the girls had been. True-blue beauty queens were a little hard to come by these days).

"Though the Comet Clan might not pose as a threat to _us_ , they're still capable of _anything_ ," pointed out Bloom seriously, "remember that time in Brooklyn with the Italian mafia? Let's keep our guard up and do this for the sisterhood, girls."

The rest of us nodded. "Right," we agreed simultaneously.

That's what we were. A sisterhood. Together, the seven of us were a single, _unified_ group of government operatives (spies, basically) called the Winx Club. We worked for the American branch of ALFEA ( **A** ssociation of **F** uturistic **E** fficient **A** gents), an organization of secret all-female spies who fought and worked to protect _all_ people. And as agents of ALFEA, we were known in the spy business as Fairies. Because in the field, that was what we were. Graceful, yet unpredictable. Dangerous, yet playful. Deadly, yet gentle. We Fairies were a lot of things, but honorable above all.

And as of now, we were on an assignment given to us by the director herself. Our job this early-early morning was to meet with the Comet Clan and purchase their newest, unique weapon they insisted on selling to ALFEA. None of us knew what this weapon was but as some of ALFEA's best spies, it was our job to deliver it to Director Faragonda.

Silence engulfed the vehicle as Aisha coasted through the lit streets. No was speaking because we were all thinking. Even Stella (which was a first). As a spy, one had to be prepared both mentally and physically. You never knew what would happen during a mission. Anything could happen and no one could prepare for everything. Thus, it was the way of the spy to accept this and if things _did_ get tricky, it was our duty to make sure the mission was accomplished. No matter what. If you couldn't come to terms with this, the spy biz was _not_ for you. Trust me.

 _Spy biz._ I'd been a part of it for a few years now—ever since I moved back to Manhattan from Georgia. A lot of times, it was frustrating. Scary. Haunting. But thanks to the rest of the Winx, my burdens and worries were never permanent. Sure, I'd seen and survived a handful of things no teenage girl would _ever_ want to endure or think about but thanks to my group, my best friends, I'd managed to overcome them all. We were a sisterhood. We trusted each other with our lives and our bonds were deeper than blood.

And though we were a group of seven girls, we worked as a single body. We knew how to work with one another and use our individual talents collectively to get the job done. That was just how we rolled. Again, we were a sisterhood. We'd always have one another's back.

"So what's this 'secret weapon' anyway?" asked Stella suddenly, making air quotes as she broke the silence. She looked under the table at the silver, bullet-slash-missile proof briefcase that set at Bloom's feet.

It was full of cash—the money Alfea was supposed to be paying the Comet Clan for their newest military creation. _If_ it was legit. It was a no-brainer that crime organizations were shady (shadier than my deadbeat brother's past girlfriend. If that's even possible). They could try to swindle us. Or perhaps they were luring us into a trap. That's why spies like us always handled these kinds of situations—we were prepared to face any unknown variable that might sneak its way into the equation.

The rest of us sitting at the table turned to look at Bloom. "Classified," said Bloom calmly as we all left it at that. Bloom was the leader of the Winx. There were some things she was supposed to know that we weren't.

"Ten minutes," warned Aisha from the front seat, righting the vehicle down another street. Though the Winxmobile didn't have any windows in the back, I knew she was driving around in circles. That was a counter surveillance tactic—by going around in circles, we were ensuring we weren't being followed.

"Acadia, Musa, you two will come with me," informed Bloom, glancing between the two of us. "The rest of you will stay behind. If we need backup, you know the drill. Activate the watches."

We obeyed, all of us putting on our Winx Watchers. Our Winx Watches were some of the most essential gadgets we used. Shaped like butterflies, they appeared nothing more than fashionable accessories, but they were WAY more important than that. They were our comm units (ear communicators were so last year. Besides, I hated how sensitive they felt in my ears) and were equipped with super high-quality cameras. Each of us had our own Winx Watch, colored the same unique color that highlighted our similar black (and heat resistant) cat suits; Bloom blue, Flora pink, Stella orange, Aisha teal, Tecna light lavender, Musa magenta, and mine silver.

"The director gave me specific instructions on how to handle the situation, _so I'll_ do the talking," went on Bloom seriously, her gaze staying on me longer than necessary.

I threw my hands up. "Hey, you know that shit wasn't my fault!" I snapped, "the duke would've found out about the bomb anyway!" It wasn't like I was hearing anything new. Ever since I was young, my family always told me my mouth would be my downfall.

"I'm not pointing fingers. I'm just saying this deal is important. Better we get this weapon and lock it away rather than someone else getting their hands on it and wreaking havoc."

"Someone else" could actually be a _bunch_ of different people. ALFEA wasn't the only agency around. Dozens of others existed all over the globe, most of them organizations with corrupted motives.

I felt the Winxmobile stop, meaning it was time to leap into action. Musa, Bloom, and I rose to our feet, buckling our equipment belts around our waists. "You know the drill, girls," said Bloom, grasping the thick handle of the shiny briefcase. "This should take an hour."

Without giving further instructions, Bloom opened the door and the three of us stepped down the steps and into a dark alleyway. The sounds of nighttime Manhattan blared in the distance, but we didn't lose our focus.

And without saying a single word, we disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

"The ox stays still in the evening, but the lion poops at dawn."

Though Bloom recited the code phrase with nothing but gravity in her voice, I wanted to flip my shit. That sounded like something my five-year-old sister would come up with, not dangerous a dangerous crime boss. But nevertheless, I matched Musa's and Bloom's expression, keeping my face solemn.

We were in a wet, smelly alleyway not far from the one the Winxmobile was parked in. The three of us were standing under a fire escape before a metal door, staring at a pair of hard eyes that were staring back at us through an opened slot in the door.

Whoever the eyes belonged to gave an approving gruff and slid the slot closed. Seconds later, we heard him unbolt the door and pull the hefty piece of metal open. A man built like a refrigerator filled the doorway. "He's waiting," he said in a thick, hoarse Russian accent, stepping aside.

Neither of us exchanged words with him as we walked past, stepping into the darkness inside. We proceeded down a bare brick hallway, not even flinching when we heard the goon tightly shut and seal the door behind us. The air was stale. The lights were dim. Yep, this was a hideout of the Comet Clan all right. I could practically _smell_ the dirty works that had transpired under this roof, the private conversations that had been whispered within the secrecy of these walls.

Bloom walked two inches ahead of us, holding on to the heavy briefcase. Musa and I fell into step behind her, not giving the goons glaring at us a second glance. They were holding rifles. But I wasn't scared of weapons. None of us were.

As we walked, I kept my focus on Bloom. She was a valuable asset of the mission, being the only one who knew what our specific instructions were. And being her colleagues, it was me and Musa's job to protect Bloom and the package. And it wasn't like Bloom was helpless—trust me, she was _far_ from a damsel in distress. Though she never stopped looking straight ahead, she was noticing and analyzing the same things Musa and I were. She saw the three "hidden" security cameras in the ceiling without actually looking up. She made note of the heat and motion sensors embedded deep in the concrete floor. She was even memorizing the layout of the hallway, keeping track of the number of doors we passed and using their position to map out the design of the building just in case we'd need an emergency exit in the future. Her brilliant mind was at work as she did what every spy did best.

We turned a corner, coming to a pair of metal doors. Guys with big rifles guarded it, but stepped aside for us when they eyed the briefcase in Bloom's grasp.

The one with the scar above his right eye pushed one of the doors open with his free hand and Bloom proceeded into the dark room with me and Musa on her heels.

This room was dark and scale too, and the brick walls were bare accept for a single painting that hung above the fireplace. A long table-clothed dinner table set in the center of the floor, having only two chairs that were placed across from each other.

A groomed and graying man in a flawless white suit was seated facing toward us, holding up a wineglass as a butler poured him a refill. Two huge goons flanked his chair on both sides, holding rifles in orderly positions.

"Ah. I've been expecting you," said the man in the suit in a Russian accent." He gestured toward the chair across from him. "Please, take a seat."

Translation: _What took you so damn long? Just sit down and let's get this over with."_

One of his identical goons appeared out of nowhere, pulling the chair out from underneath the table for Bloom. The redhead sat down, laying the briefcase on the table. I stood on her right while Musa on her right, both of us remaining just as silent and motionless as the crime boss's goons.

The butler poured Bloom a glass of wine, but Bloom didn't touch it. "Mr. Mikhailov, we were sent here from ALFEA to purchase your newest weapon," informed Bloom professional, getting straight to the point. "Our orders are to get it to our facility as soon as possible."

Translation: _"Just shut the fuck up and show us the damned thing."_

The corners of Mr. Mikhailov's lips curled into a faint smile. "ALFEA doesn't waste time. Nor do I. Bring in the package," he ordered to no one in particular.

One of his thugs appeared out of nowhere, holding a briefcase similar to Bloom's. He handed it to Mr. Mikhailov, who set it on the table. My mind was spinning. According to Bloom, this weapon was dangerous, but it was small enough to fit inside a briefcase?

"Now, I assume ALFEA understands how hard it was for my scientific geniuses?" hinted Mr. Mikhailov, taking a long and slow sip from his glass.

Translation: _"Where's my motherfucking money?"_

"Of course, sir." Bloom nodded. In one fluid motion, she was flipping up the latches on her briefcase. When I saw the layers of neat bills inside it, I swore under my breath. I'd never seen so much money in one place. Thick rubber bands kept them all arranged in identical stacks, each hundred-dollar bill flat and smooth as if they'd never been touched, fresh off the press. Bloom turned the briefcase around for the Russian crime lord to see, but it never left her grasp.

Mr. Mikhailov was apparently just as impressed as me, because he leaned back in his chair with satisfaction. "ALFEA doesn't disappoint," he chuckled.

Translation: _That's a lot of damn moo-lah._

"Before we can make the deal, I need to see the weapon," said Bloom calmly, slamming the briefcase shut.

"Yes, of courses, of course…." Mr. Mikhailov was about to open his briefcase, but one of his thugs appeared through a door in the corner and whispered something into his boss's ear.

The three of us remained silent as Mr. Mikhailov replied to him with a huge smile on his face, "Yes, yes. Let them in." A look of amusement and annoyance spread across his aging face as he turned toward us. "Looks like there's been a change in plans."

Just then, the door in the corner reopened and the same goon came back into the room. But he wasn't alone this time. Three girls proceeded in after him, flanked on all sides by armed thugs.

At the sight of them, I immediately hissed and Musa scowled. But Bloom didn't flinch. Her face indifferent regardless of the fact we were sharing the same space as our biggest rivals. We knew them. They knew us. And we hated each other.

"Well, this certainly is a surprise," announced Mr. Mikhailov, a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice as the goons showed his new guests in.

As I mentioned, there were three of them. They all wore cat suits like us, except highlighted with chilling blue, dark purple, and deep magenta. They all wore sinister smiles that shrank when they laid eyes on us.

"Well, look who it is," announced Agent Frostbite, her smile returning. She was the leader of her trio, aka Icy, her real name. She was just as cold as her name, if not more. She literally had a heart of ice and was the most ruthless, vindictive, and cruelest of her group.

"If it isn't the little Fairies from ALFEA." The one with the long brown hair, Lady of Darkness aka Darcy, snorted. Unlike Icy, Darcy was more calm and competent, but was more devious and manipulative. She was an expert at discovering weaknesses and exploiting them (I'd witnessed her acts firsthand in Monte Carlo last year).

"Why are they here?" The youngest one, Stormy Night, real name actually Stormy, gave a sneer at us. She was the aggressive, moody one.

Together, the three of them were the Trix. Remember how I said there were other spy organizations out there? Well, they were a part of a bad one: Cloud Tower. If we were fairies, they were definitely witches. I couldn't count how many run-ins we'd had with them in the past.

"Ah, so we all know each other." Mr. Mikhailov eyed us.

"Save it, Mikhailov." Icy rolled her eyes. She snapped her fingers and her sisters set heavy briefcases on the table. "We're here for your newest weapon."

"What? No way! He's making a deal with _us_ ," I snapped, speaking out of term.

Icy rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. But you've failed to realize that we're offering _more_. So what do you say, Mr. Mikhailov?"

The answer was already written all over the thug's face.

"With all due respect, sir," spoke up Bloom. More like _no_ respect. "What about our agreement—

Mr. Mikhailov smiled like a fat cat. "Sorry, my dear, but we haven't made our little agreement _yet._ And since a better offer has been presented…"

 _You fat fuck_! I yelled in my mind. I did NOT get up at three o'clock in the morning just to be turned down by some dickhead in a fancy suit.

Darcy and Stormy opened the briefcases so we could all see the stacks of hundreds stacked inside. We lost. I already knew it. "If only all people paid this handsomely," said Mr. Mikhailov, his eyes wider than the moon. "Yes, I believe you have a deal." He turned to look at us. "Sorry, dears. Perhaps next time."

If I were in control, there wouldn't _be_ a next time for him. But nevertheless, all we could do was watch helplessly as Mikhailov and the Trix made business.

As Mikhailov was reaching for his money and Icy was reaching to claim her prize, the unexpected happened.

All I heard was a shot ringing out and then I saw the red mass spreading across a thug's chest as he lifelessly collapsed onto the floor. And what occurred next was a blur—it was way too fast.

Everything was happening at once. As Bloom was alertly pulling away from the table, Mr. Mikhailov's butler was dropping dead onto the concrete. Another shot fired. The door was open. Big guys different from Mikhailov's were swarming in. Shots fired back and forth nonstop. Bloom was grabbing me and Musa's wrists, yanking all of us onto the floor for cover. More shots rang out. I heard swearing and shouting. Mikhailov's guys were firing their rifles while their boss screamed orders. I heard loud thumps. Banging. Struggling. Mikhailov's hideout was under attack, and we were in the center of the invasion.

Musa, Bloom, and I remained pressing against the floor, protecting our heads with our arms as bullets sailed in all directions. The shootout lasted for a few more minutes, and then everything became silent. _Too_ silent. _Deadly_ silent.

Cautiously, the three of us rose to our feet to find the battle was finished. All of Mikhailov's thugs were scattered across the floor, unmoving. Lifeless. Mikhailov himself was among them, lying down on the hard concrete, cradling Bloom's briefcase in his lifeless arms. His face was frozen in the last emoticon he'd ever feel: fear. It was obvious what had transpired. When things got tricky, Mikhailov had only one instinct: take the money and _run._ But they obviously backfired on him.

As Musa took back our briefcase, Bloom crouched down and observed Mikhailov's body. "Right in the heart," she whispered.

Something then came to my attention. "Where are the Trix?" I asked too loudly, my gaze scanning the room. My eyes landed on the table. Mikhailov's glass of wine had spilt over during the struggle, staining the white tablecloth red. But I wasn't fretting over the mess. "And where's the weapon?" I asked alertly.

It took us three seconds to put it together.

And then we were sprinting out of the room. The hallway was even messier. More of Mikhailov's guys were lying about, their fallen rifles inches away from their outstretched, bruised hands. A few guys who didn't look like Mikhailov's were dead too, but we weren't paying much attention to them. We were leaping over their bodies, making a break for the exit.

We burst through the metal door and staggered into the dark alleyway. It was the same way it'd been thirty minutes ago: empty.

"So the Trix set up Mikhailov?" inferred Musa with a deep frown. Rain started to fall, pelting down on everything.

"They're long gone," I spat, kicking at the brick wall of the building. But as if to prove me wrong, the sound of scuffling filled the air. Our heads snapped in all directions. "Where's that coming from?" I demanded.

Bloom looked upward. "The roof!"

With an instant, we were climbing the fire escape, hoisting ourselves up onto the rooftop of the building. Sure enough, the Trix were already engaged in a hand-to-hand battle with the mysterious offenders.

"Enemy or ally?" Musa posed the question quickly, but what was about to happen next would answer her question.

We felt their presence before we saw them. The three of us stealthily leaped out of the way as a group of dark figures swooped down out of nowhere like crows, landing on the rooftop with hefty thumps. They lunged at as the second they touched down.

"That answer your question?" asked Bloom, slashing a guy across the face with her boot.

One guy threw a punch at me, but I evaded it swiftly, ducking under his arm and grabbing hold of it from behind. I pinned his arm behind his back and then landed a blow on his neck with the side of my hand. The technique made him drop to the ground numb, and I moved on to the next guy.

I flipped a thug over my shoulder and then slapped a tranquilizer patch on another's arm as he attempted to knock me off my feet. As soon as I turned around, all I saw was the bottom of Stormy's heel and the next thing I knew, I was skidding across the roof.

"You fairies ruin everything!" erupted Stormy aggressively as she approached me with clenched fists. Behind her, the rest of the Trix and Winx were fighting off the thugs while going one-on-one with each other at the same time. As Bloom was giving a goon a knifehand strike to the neck, she managed to dodge Icy's roundhouse kick. As Musa leveled a guy, she swept her leg out and knocked Darcy off her feet. Meanwhile, the rain continued to downpour.

"Hey, don't blame us!" I hissed, leaping back onto my feet. I gestured around the rooftop at all the semi-unconscious bodies. " _These_ aren't our forces." And from the looks of things, it wasn't theirs either.

Stormy leaped into the air and tried to aim a blow across my face but I dodged, countering with a butterfly kick. We were matched in strength and agility, so it was almost like we were sparing rather than fighting. "How'd you know about the Comet Clan's weapon anyway?" I demanded, blocking Stormy's punches as quick as she was throwing them. "They only proposed the offer to _us_."

Stormy smirked. "So you _think_."

I raised an eyebrow, eluding her spinning side kick. "Mikhailov came to Cloud Tower too?" I gritted my teeth as realization dawned over me. "That tricky motherfucker…"

Stormy caught my fist. "We won't return empty handed!" she snapped, "we'll take that weapon away from you even if we have to pry it from your lifeless clutches!"

My eyes widened, but not from the brutality of her threat. I leaped away from her, giving the whistle. Within an instant, Musa and Bloom were separating themselves from Darcy and Icy, regrouping with me. The Trix were doing the same, gathering together on the opposite side of the roof.

"I don't know what went down just a few minutes ago, but we _don't_ have the weapon," I shot at our rivals. "We thought _you_ did!"

" _Us_?" Icy snorted, folding her arms across her chest as the rain let up. "Yeah, right. It _would've_ been ours if we weren't _interrupted._ "

"We didn't have anything to do with that either." Musa frowned deeply. "Since that's _obviously_ what you're implying." There was a tense moment of silence as the two parties glared at each other, their hair blowing in the wind.

"So if you don't have the weapon and we don't have the weapon…" trailed off Bloom, deep in thought.

And at that moment, nothing was louder than the harsh sound of an engine cranking up and tires squealing against pavement. Bloom, Musa, and I whirled around to see a plain white van racing down the street below.

" _Shit!"_ I cursed.

Bloom didn't waste time. "Tides!" she shouted into her watch after turning it back online.

"Talk to me." Aisha's voice was calm and collected.

"There's a white van headed your way!"

"Got it."

"Wildfire, what's the situation?" asked Tecna's voice.

"We got attacked and the Tr—where are the Trix?!"

Just as the three of us were spinning back around, the Trix were jumping off the rooftop, disappearing over the ledge and into the darkness below.

" _Shit!"_ I repeated as the rain started back up.

"Girls, we have a code red!" reported Bloom into her watch as she, Musa, and I jumped across the alleyway onto the next rooftop. "The Trix are after the target too."

"The Trix?" repeated Stella over the comm in our watches. I could _hear_ her wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"They have the weapon?" questioned Flora.

"Negative. Mikhailov's gone and a mysterious group has stolen it," replied Musa, raising her wrist up to her mouth as we sprinted across the roof, lightly leaping over onto the next.

"So the Trix are after the van was well," inferred Tecna slowly. "Why were they there in the first place?"

"Later! Tides, we have a visual of the van," said Bloom seriously, "it's turning onto 39th street". From the top of the looming buildings, we could see the roads clearly. Sure enough, the mysterious white van was turning onto another street, disappearing from our view.

"See it," was Aisha's response. Just then, the Winxmobile came speeding down another road, curving onto (blank) street after the van.

"We'll see if we can infiltrate it. Girls, get ready," Bloom warned me and Musa. Working fast and not breaking our speedy pace, the three of us unhitched our crossbows from our equipment belt and aimed them at a building across the street. We then simultaneously fired our arrows, sending cables spiraling over the Manhattan traffic below. The cables fixed into place in the mortar above one of the apartment's top-level windows.

Next, we clipped the straps from our belts onto the outstretched line and zoomed across the street one by one, landing in a windowsill and quickly disassembling the zip line. Using the apartment's fire escapes, we ascended up onto the rooftop and continued our dash, disappearing into the darkness.

* * *

"Approaching your position. Get ready," Aisha gave us a fair warning over the comm unit.

"Right." Bloom looked between me and Musa. We nodded. We were perched atop the edge of a rooftop, waiting. Thanks to Bloom's shortcut, we'd managed to cut across Midtown before the Winxmobile and the mysterious van. And now, we were waiting to make our move.

"I see them!" Musa pointed in the distance, where a white van was gunning toward us, the pink Winxmobile hot on its trail.

Bloom, Musa, and I stepped up onto the ledge, readying ourselves. I was praying like hell. It wasn't every day we did something like this, and I still wanted to be around tomorrow so I could have my brother's Belgian waffles for breakfast (yummy!).

"One…" Bloom kept her eyes focused as the van sped closer.

"Two." My voice cracked with uncertainty. If we were off by even a second, we were deader than my little sister's old pet hamster (may you rest in peace, Mr. Hammington).

"Three!" we all shouted.

As soon as the van was in range, we leapt off the roof, descending down toward the road. And as Bloom calculated, we managed to land feet-first on the top of the van. Immediately, the suction cups on the soles of our boots activated, keeping our feet firm on the roof of the vehicle even though it was flying down the road at seventy miles an hour. I wanted to cry out in relief, but we weren't out of hot water yet.

Musa got to work. She took out a lipstick, drawing a red circle in the center of the roof. The crimson acid immediately ate the metal away, causing a circular chunk of the roof to fall out of place and into the inside of the van. Bloom and I took action, slipping through the hole and lightly landing within the back of the vehicle.

The armed goons didn't have a chance. Kicks flew, punches were landed, tranquilizer patches were slapped on. While Bloom took care of them, I was yanking a thug out of the passenger seat and taking his place in the cab with the driver. "Turn this motherfucker around!" I yelled at him, reaching for the steering wheel.

The driver growled, using his free hand to punch me hard in the face. I fell backward, my head slamming against the window on the passenger side.

I gritted my teeth, my vision blurring as my head spun. _Fucker._

When my vision cleared up, I was ready I give him some shit, but I screamed to see the guy throwing open his door. Holding on to the silver briefcase, he jumped out of the vehicle, completely disappearing. Thinking fast, I slid across the cab and grabbed the wheel, turning the van into a convenient alleyway.

I swung open my door and hopped out onto the wet street. Musa climbed off the van and Bloom swung open the back doors of the van, joining us in the alley.

"They got away," I growled, clenching a fist.

The Winxmobile came to a halt at the end of the alley and the door opened. "C'mon!" called Aisha from the driver's seat, "we can still catch him before the Trix do!"

The three of us quickly climbed into the Winxmobile and Aisha took off down the street. Sighing, we sat down around the touch screen table with the other girls.

"What happened?" asked Flora gently.

Obviously disappointed, Bloom explained the past hour's occurrences to the others. "Hmm. So you say the guy ran off with the weapon?" mused Tecna, her flingers gliding across the screen. "If he's on the run, we can still find him."

She tapped on an application. "I'm launching the thermal scanner."

"Uh, Tecna. You _do_ realize Manhattan is home to over a million people, right?" pointed out Stella, "there are lots of people walking on the streets." After running the thermal scanner, dozens and dozens of tiny red dots appeared on the grid. " _See_ ," snorted Stella.

"That one." Tecna pointed at the dot close to our location. Unlike the other ones, it was moving across the map rapidly. "You're right, Stella. There are lots of people on the streets, but who exactly takes a run this early in the morning?"

"It's gotta be our guy." Musa frowned.

"Only one way to find out." Tecna nodded. "Aisha?"

"Got it," she called back from the front, turning the Winxmobile around.

"This doesn't make any sense," I groaned, slouching in my seat.

"There's a third party behind this," stated Bloom grimly, "but the question is _who_? I didn't recognize those guys that ambushed us."

"What if they're from one of those foreign mafias we were talking about earlier?" suggested Stella, appearing uninterested.

Musa shook her head. "Their goal hadn't been to take out Mikhailov. They were solely focused on the weapon. Mikhailov just happened to get caught in the crossfire."

Tecna nodded. "I agree. If they truly wanted to destroy Mikhailov, they would've destroyed the weapon he created. But instead, they stole it and fled. 'Mission accomplished'."

"What _was_ the weapon anyway?" asked Stella hopefully, hoping to catch Bloom off guard.

"Still classified, Stella."

"He's still on the move," reported Tecna, eyes locked on the digital map. Her eyes widened. "Wait a minute! He's right in—"

The Winxmobile suddenly jerked to a rough, abrupt stop, causing all of us to fall forward onto the table. "Aisha! What gives?" I barked.

"Someone just ran across the road!" Aisha barked back, "I was trying not to hit him."

"Our guy!" cried out Bloom, jumping to her feet. "Let's go!"

Seconds later, me, Musa, Stella, and Bloom were bursting through the door, charging down the wet street. "He just made the next right," reported Tecna's voice over the comm unit, "you can catch him!"

The four of us made the next right turn, sprinting into another alley. Sure enough, a guy was already making his way up a tall chain-like fence. "You! Stop!" called Bloom.

Halfway up, the guy attentively looked over his shoulder. Immediately, I knew he wasn't our guy. He was leaner and smaller. His hair was blue, the same color of his unreadable eyes. And instead of wearing a dark suit and sunglasses, he wore a bright yellow hoodie and a pair of jeans. Upon seeing us, he startled and disappeared over the chain-linked fence, disappearing around the corner.

Stella and I were about to go after him, but Bloom stopped us. "No! That's not him." She shook her head.

"But he's running away from us!" I snapped, "what if he has something to do with—" Bloom looked at me sharply, and I shut up.

"It's over," she sighed as the Winxmobile pulled up. "They got away. And there's nothing we can do about it. C'mon. We have to report to the director."

As everyone started for the Winxmobile, I stayed out. Something didn't add up here. That guy in the yellow hoodie had something to do with the early morning's unfolding.

And one thing was for sure. We'd _definitely_ be seeing him again.

Count on it.


	2. World of the Winx

**A/n: I heard a curse word in World of Winx. I was like, "whoa, hold the fuck up". I replayed that segment over and over. I knew in the Italian version of the original Winx Club, there might've been some dirty language, but in a** _ **new**_ **English double? Maybe because it's on Netflix? I don't even know. That's a first.** (❛ε❛)

 **By the way, as a disclaimer, I do not own Annabelle or Louise. That's property of the guys who did World of Winx.**

* * *

Man, _fuck_ My Little Pony.

My little sister was really into it these days, so it was on the TV _all_ day. Thus, the theme song haunted my thoughts, plagued my dreams. It played over and over again, never ceasing until I either woke up or my dream was interrupted by Santa Claus in a mankini (please, DON'T ask. My dreams were enigmas that not even I could understand).

So when I finally woke up, I was more relieved than that time deadbeat West had decided to actually do his laundry for once (man, _bless_. That day had been a miracle in itself). When I opened my eyes, all I saw was my white wall (one of the more _sane_ things I'd woken up to).

"So where'd you go this morning?" my younger sister Bailey's voice broke the usual silence, making me flinch. I rolled over onto my other side, my eyes landing on Bailey's bed, which was right across from mine on the opposite wall (yes, bless my poor soul. I shared a _bedroom_ with her). Overall, our room wasn't that big. Just big enough for our beds, our dresser, a rug, and a closet. There was a window, but our room was always dark because we rarely opened our curtain. See, the second you looked out of our window, all you could see was the inside of the tall parking garage next door. Thus, when we first moved in, we'd usually happen to look out the window to lock eyes with someone getting out of their car, so we nipped that all in a bud by putting curtains up, and they hadn't come down since.

"Leave me alone, Bails," I groaned, yanking the covers over my head. "That's none of your business." Honestly, I was surprised she was _just_ catching on. Ever since I became an elite spy, sneaking out the apartment at random times of night had basically become a part of my daily routine. And _none_ of my family members had _ever_ caught me in the act (I'd be a suck-ass spy otherwise).

"I woke up this morning and you were gone! And it was _4am_!" Bailey's voice was getting high with excitement. "Were you out with a boy?"

Ah, Bailey. Sweet, naïve Bailey. She was a typical fourteen-year-old. Ever since she graduated 8th grade, she'd been this way. All she ever thought and talked about was starting high school. She thought starting 9th grade made her a "big girl". Sigh. Poor kid. She had a lot to learn.

"No. And shut up," I grumbled. I accidentally rolled off my bed, landing on the floor with a big thump, entangled in my cover.

Bailey wasn't letting it go so easy. "Who is it? Does he live in the building? Is he rich? Do I know him?"

"I'm not seeing anyone," I deadpanned from the floor. "And for one, you don't know any boys. _Not_ counting the ones in our family."

"But that'll all change in a few days," assured Bailey, sliding out of her own bed as I rose to my feet. "When high school starts, I'm sure I'll meet _lots_ of guys."

I rolled my eyes (I was the queen of that) at her stupidity. "I'll give you a fair warning, Bails," I yawned, wiping the sleep out of my eyes. "High-school ain't what Disney makes it appear. In 'glorious high school', there's one thing most of the guys are after: _sex_. Especially the popular boys. That includes the whole basketball team. They're all man-whores and even if they weren't, you _still_ don't need to be around them."

Bailey just dismissed my warning as if it was irrelevant. "You just don't give anyone a chance. You're too judgmental," she insisted, sliding her feet into her fuzzy bunny slippers. And with those words lingering in the air, she swung open our door and disappeared down the hall.

Good riddance. That kid was headache. I sat down on the edge of my bed, sighing. Though I'd gotten a few hours of sleep, I still had a headache from early this morning. Its occurrences kept playing over and over again in my head. Mikhailov was deader than Myspace. His weapon was gone. The Trix were most likely after it, but I had a feeling they wouldn't lay eyes on it. _Ever._ They wouldn't even come close. That mysterious third party that had compromised the weapon—they were good. In other words: a _threat._ I hoped they wouldn't involve themselves in our future work.

The lovely smell of Belgian waffles yanked me out of my thoughts. West was up this early?

Curious, I wandered down the hall and into the heart of the apartment. Ultimately, our place wasn't that big. As soon as you walked through the door, there was the family room on the left and our cozy kitchen along with a small dining room on the right. Apart from that, there were three bedrooms, one bathroom, and a lien closet that served as a laundry room-slash-storage space. The overall apartment wasn't _that_ small but when you shared it with _five_ of your six siblings, your mom, _plus_ her boyfriend of the month, it was a miracle I had breathing space.

And this morning, my little five-year-old baby sister, Stephanie, was seated in front of the TV, watching…I shuddered as Stephanie sang along with the My Little Pony theme song. I had to admit, she looked kinda cute, especially in her Disney Princess pajamas. Her honey-blond hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail and her green eyes were brimming with amusement. And her chubby little cheeks seemed rosier than usual.

Unnaturally laid-back West was operating the Belgian-waffle maker, yawning and scratching his bushy blond beard. He was the second eldest of the six of us and was extremely lazy. Though he was 22, he hadn't even _thought_ about getting a job and applying to a college was simply out of the question. _But_ he was a killer cook, so we usually excused his lack of activity as long as he made us dinner and occasionally breakfast.

"Where's Mom?" I asked, grabbing a clean plate and heading for the tall stack of waffles on the counter.

West shrugged, yawning again as if to emphasize how he didn't give a damn. "Dunno. Disappeared with Diablo last night," was his short, half-hearted reply. "Probably stayed over his place."

I gritted my teeth. Diablo. Mom's newest boyfriend. He might've looked hot, but he wasn't worth two shits. I was glad Mom wasn't here, because she tended to stick to her boyfriends like glue. If she was home, they were here too.

Bailey, who was already seated at the table drenching his waffles in syrup, sighed loudly. "Maybe she'll actually stay with him this time. She says he's a lawyer, right? I think that was her way of saying he's a keeper."

See, Mom had a way of picking up deadbeats off the street. Usually, they only used her for a place to stay, and Mom never realized that until it was too late. So for her to actually have a boyfriend with a decent job, that had to mean something. But, as I mentioned, I didn't like Diablo. He was shady, inside and out. That's probably why he was a lawyer in the first place.

West just shrugged inattentively. "Who knows? Maybe he just has a big sausage."

Bailey choked on her own juice and I stole a glance over at the family room to make sure Stephanie hadn't heard. Sure enough, she was still absorbed in the My Little Pony episode airing.

"Okay, enough about them." Bailey's voice was taking on the same excited tone from earlier. "School starts in a few days! I'm so excited! I'll finally be able to go to parties with _boys_!" (She meant going to parties that had male guests, not bringing a boy to a party like a date. There's a difference).

"Not that you'll be going to any," I spoke up, opening up the refrigerator and taking out a can of extra-creamy Reddi-Wip.

Bailey's face fell immediately. "What? Why not?"

"Because. High school parties have alcohol and you're not drinking until you're thirty," I said matter-of-factly, topping my waffles with a big, fluffy mound of whipped cream.

"I know for a fact you started drinking when you were fourteen," countered Bailey stubbornly, frowning in her usual _that's not fair!_ manner.

"And look how retarded she turned out," snorted West, pouring more batter into the waffle maker.

"Shut up." Bailey was right though—I had my first beer all the way back at the very start of ninth grade. Ever since then, my motto was "action, alcohol, and anime", or the 3 A's for short (sister to Stella's 3 L's of Life, "laugh, love, live". She loved anime even more than me, but that started with an A and would mess up the alliteration. Besides, her love for anime was kind of a secret since Stella didn't want everyone to see her as a "dork").

"Oh, c'mon! _All_ the parties will have liquor," argued Bailey.

"That's why you'll only be going to the dry ones," I informed calmly, forking off the layered corners of my waffles.

Bailey pouted, sticking out her bottom lip. "That's not fair," she whined, stomping her foot under the table.

"Steph, time for breakfast," I called out to our baby sister, ending the conversation right then and there. And Bailey knew better than to argue with me, so she just snorted and silently sulked in her chair.

"Coming." Little Stephanie bounced into the dining room, her blond ponytail flying all around her head.

All six of my siblings shared Mom's blond hair and for a while, I had actually been envious of them. See, I was _different._ My dad was mixed between Caucasian and African-American, so my skin ended up being a warm tan color. And while my other siblings had piercing green eyes, mine were intense blue with hints of grey, touching but never blending. And contrary to the others' blond hair, mine was jet black. For the longest, Mom had always told me my hair went nicely went my skin tone, eyes, and naturally peachy-pink lips, but I would never listen because back then, I'd been just like Bailey—I wanted to look just like everyone else. But now, I really didn't give a damn. I learned to cherish individuality, because it was what us all unique.

After I cut up Stephanie's waffles and finished my own, I made a break for the bathroom (when everyone in the household shared the same bathroom, you had to be on the top of your game) so I could get ready for the day. When I got out of the shower, I checked my phone to see a text from Aisha.

 _Be there n 5._

I threw on a plain white tee, wiggled into a pair of black mesh basketball shorts, and slipped into a pair of Converse. Unlike my friends (especially Stella and excluding Aisha), I wasn't a fashionista. Like, just throw something on and go the fuck on with your life. It wasn't a big deal.

After collecting my wallet and keys, I made my way to the front door, where I met Stephanie, who had abandoned her food at the table. "Where are you going?" she asked curiously, looking up at me with those beautiful eyes.

"Somewhere with the girls, now go finish eating before your waffles get cold." I gave her a gentle push toward the table.

From the couch, Bailey scowled. "Oh, you can have a social life but I can't?"

"Shut up." I rolled my eyes. "And watch Stephanie for me. And if Mom comes back with Diablo, get West to take you two to the park or something."

West was letting out a long, tired groan as I slipped out of our apartment. I took the elevator from our floor, the tenth one, and took it down to the lobby. Our building was kind of plain, so the lobby wasn't exquisite like some others I'd been in (for crying out loud, the glass doors weren't even automatic!).

I stepped outside onto the busy sidewalk. Using my hand like a visor to shield my eyes, I glanced upward at the blue sky. I loved how the tops of the buildings and skyscrapers looked against the sky. It was like if you ever made it to the top of them, you could just hold up a hand and finger the delicate heavens. This is what I loved about Manhattan.

I loved the busy atmosphere here. The activity, the diversity, the accessibility, the creativity, the transportation. I loved all the aspects that made the city so great.

Simply put, I was a city girl through and through. I'd been relived when we moved back here from Georgia. I _hated_ that state. It was so…so _country_ and rural. Sure, there was always Atlanta, but it didn't feel as clean as Manhattan. It didn't really have that "city" feel. In Manhattan, the whole _island_ was a perfect grid of symmetrical planning and architecture, while everything in Atlanta just felt…unnatural. Like it was only built just for the sake of being there. Compared to Manhattan, Atlanta felt…asleep. Slow.

Just then,a big black SUV suddenly pulled on the curb and the window on the passenger side rolled down. "Hop in," called Aisha from the driver's seat.

"This is new," I said, sliding into the passenger seat and slamming the door shut afterward. "What happened to the old one?" That fresh new car smell engulfed the interior of the car, strongly clinging to the perfect black leather seats. In the two rows of seats behind us, the Winx were already comfortably seated, dressing in their casual skirts, sweats, and tees (not even gonna acknowledging Stella, who was dressed for a freakin' runway shoot or something).

Aisha just shrugged as she steered back onto the street, merging with traffic. "Dad felt like the other one was too outdated," was her gruff, annoyed reply. Being the sole heiress to a multi-billion dollar company and daughter of one of the most successful businessmen in the Big Apple, Aisha lived in entirely different world than me, though she would prefer otherwise. She was rich like Stella, but didn't put on that whole glitter-and-glamour show and wasn't nearly as spoiled. That's what I liked about her.

Behind me, Tecna was typing on her laptop in her lap, the sounds of her fingers click-clanking against the keys filling the car. "It's all over the news sites," she confirmed as if answering a question. She and the others must've been engaged in a conversation before I got in, and nine times out of ten it was about the chaos that had gone down at the Comet Clan's hideout.

"When the authorities finally arrived, the entire building was on fire," repeated Tecna, reading from the screen. "Everyone inside had been killed by gunfire, including FBI-wanted Anatoly Mikhailov."

My mouth set in a grim line. "The Trix?"

I peered over my shoulder to see Bloom, who was nestled in between Musa and Flora in the third row of seat, shaking her head. "Why would they even bother coming back?" she pointed out, "we all know when it comes to these situations, the Trix don't waste time. The weapon was stolen from Mikhailov, so why would they return to his hideout? They hadn't left behind any evidence, so they had no reason to destroy the building."

"Then it had to be those other guys," insisted Aisha, stopping at a traffic light. " _They_ actually had things to cover up, considering they were the ones who killed Mikhailov and his bodyguards _and_ got away with his product. They obviously couldn't afford to leave behind any proof that they were behind the act."

"But that wouldn't really matter, would it? No one knows who they are anyway," argued Tecna, "I haven't found anything in Langley's, M16's, _or_ the CIA's databanks."

"No one knows who they are _yet_ ," corrected Flora calmly, "because no one's claimed responsibility for the attack _yet_."

"Our Mysterious Man," slipped through my lips. I felt everyone focus their attention on me. "The guy in the yellow hoodie. He could've set the place on fire. He was nearby and _running away_ from something. Maybe he was trying to get away from the crime scene before he was spotted."

There was silence as my theory soaked into everyone's brains. "That _could_ be a possibility, but we can't jump to assumptions with such little information," reminded Bloom.

"I think Acadia's on to something," piped up Stella from her seat behind Aisha's, legs crossed as her thumbs flew across the screen of her touch screen. Apparently, she found texting more important than the conversation at hand. "That guy was suspicious. He could be the secret arsonist."

" _Or_ just some punk kid running from the law," countered Aisha, keeping her eyes glued to the road.

"We won't worry about him for now," decided Bloom before a debate could erupt, "until he gives us a reason to prove otherwise, that guy in the hoodie is innocent. All of you know decisions can't be made off simple guesses alone."

Aisha and I murmured our agreements, and that was the end of that. From then on out, our conversation was relatively normal. We discussed the new school term, the latest Hollywood gossip. We debated on who'd end up with who on one of our favorite television shows. Stuff like that. Nothing ALFEA of Comet-Clan related came up again.

My favorite part of the drive was the part when we crossed Queensboro Bridge. I loved how we towered above the East River, giving us a magnificent view of Queens ahead as we left the even more impressive skyline of Manhattan in our dust.

The traffic in Long Island City was far lighter than that in Manhattan, so the cruise down Jackson Avenue was an easy one. Eventually, we turned onto Center Boulevard, which stretched right along the edge of Queens Island.

We steered into the parking lot of a retro restaurant with a lit marquee that read **54** , the name of our favorite eatery in Queens.

We walked into 54, the bell ringing above the door as we entered. Although I'd been here several times before, I fell in love with it every time I walked through the door. The diner was just like the ones they showed in the movies with black-and-white checkerboard floors and vinyl booths. Matching stools were placed as the tiled counter and a jukebox even set against the wall in the back.

The seven of us slid into our usual booth by the floor-to-ceiling windows. When we first started coming here, the place had far more business so we always ended up sitting in the spot beside the window. Eventually, it just became…ours. Even when business slowed down and the usual crowds thinned out, we always took the same booth. It was kind of like our own little tradition.

And honestly, in my opinion, our booth was the best. The expansive window gave a _marvelous_ outlook of the East River and the massive skyline of Manhattan that bordered it. It was so breathtaking—I could stare out at it for hours at a time and never get tired.

"I wondered when you all would show."

Annabelle Martin's voice brung me back to reality and I turned to see her walking over to our booth. Annabelle Martin was a girl of a tan completion with medium-length brown hair and intense brown eyes. She was in her usual waitress uniform, the only thing I'd ever seen her in.

"Annabelle! Hi! How are you?" Bloom smiled ear-to-ear and the rest of us gave our greetings. Annabelle was one of the waitresses we'd come to know over the years who we considered a close friend.

Annabelle gave a shrug, still smiling. "Nothing much. My older sister got married and my brother's applying to NYU."

Stella put on a sly smile. "What about _you_? Any new guys in your life?"

Annabelle gave a laugh. "Hardly. I have a lot on my plate right now. My mom's insisting to apply to NYU like my brother, but I've been thinking about Juilliard. I don't know yet. What about you girls? Aren't you starting your senior year this year?" Annabelle was a year older than us, already graduated from high school. She _swore_ she'd quit her job as a waitress the second she was handed her diploma but she was still here, much to our relief.

"Juilliard? Isn't that a performing arts school?" asked Bloom.

A loud cough prevented Annabelle from answering. Our heads all turned to see Louise, the other waitress, walking out of the kitchen in back. She adjusted her red-framed glasses and frowned deeply.

"Right, right. Sorry!" Annabelle turned back to us. "The usual, right?" she asked, taking out her notepad.

We all echoed our agreement and began quietly talking among each other as Louise and Annabelle disappeared into the kitchen to fetch our order.

"This place is really going downhill," whispered Aisha with a deep frown. "Eventually, this place might…" She didn't even have to say it.

"We have to do something," said Bloom lowly, "though she won't directly say it, I know Annabelle has some attachment to this place, just like we do. And this place isn't as popular as it used to be…"

Stella took off her sunglasses, shaking her hair out. "Don't worry about it, girls. I got it all taken care of. I'll get my dad to promote this place and once everyone sees the company's sponsoring it, people will come flocking again. Trust me."

Bloom didn't look convinced. "I don't know, Stella. Not everything can be—"

"Wait! Everyone, shh!" went Musa suddenly. "Do you hear that?" The whole booth went silent and the melodic sound of humming filled the air. "Scooch," said Musa, nudging me. I slid out of the booth so she could get out. "It's coming from the kitchen," she said excitedly, starting for the counter.

"Musa, where are you going?" I hissed as she walked behind it.

"The humming's coming from back there," she said, pointing at the kitchen that led to the back kitchen. "C'mon." She pushed open the door just a crack and peered inside. The humming, which was way louder now, was coming from Annabelle, who was collecting our trays of food from the counter.

"Annabelle!" Musa burst into the kitchen, startling the brunette. "Your voice! It's amazing!"

Balancing our trays, Annabelle walked past us and set everything down in front of the other girls at our booth. "Singing's always been a hobby of mine," she said like it was no big deal.

"But Annabelle, it could be so much more than that," pointed out Musa, smiling widely. "You have a _natural talent_."

"Maybe. People have told me that several times before. When I was smaller, I used to dream about being a singer and—"

"Hold it right there! You totally have what it takes," assured Musa.

"You could become a _star_!" Stella's eyes were certainty starry. "In fact—" Something on her started to beep, interrupting her. She dug into her purse, taking out her Winx Watch. "Uh, Annabelle? We'll take our food to go. We have to _go_."

The rest of us got the message because we were all rising to our feet in seconds. Musa seemed disappointed. "I'm sorry, Annabelle, but we'll be back," she reassured the brunette, "that voice of yours is too beautiful to ignore."

Annabelle gave a shy smile. "Thanks. I guess I'll see you guys next time."

If there _was_ a next time. But I didn't point this out so I wouldn't scare her. But one thing I learned in the spy business: life was far too unpredictable. One minute, things could be normal, the next minute your whole world could come crashing down on top of you.

* * *

Back in Manhattan, Aisha was steering the SUV down a street in Midtown. She turned the car toward a skyscraper, easing into its parking garage as silence fell among us. As the tires rolled across the concrete, the agents up in one of the communication rooms were being alerted of something triggering the motion sensors imbedded in the ground. As Aisha steered into a parking space, the computers in one of the underground levels were registering her license plate, checking her information. And as we climbed out of the SUV and started toward the elevator, the heat-sensitive cameras were detecting and recording our every move, prompting the biometric scanners to run a full-body analysis on us. All of this was happening at once, but you'd never know it. To the average eye, this was just a normal, private parking garage, not a high-tech, closely monitored facility equipped with hidden features that could blow you away in a second.

The air in the parking lot was stale and all was quiet save the sound of our shoes against the concrete. We stepped into the elevator and the second the steel doors kissed closed, Tecna started punching out a nine-digit code on the keypad. A barely visible compartment above the buttons opened and a tiny microphone revealed itself. Tecna bent down and spoke into it. "Tecna Zenith, Code 00975-8712, Group 123-7G5, Sublevel 1."

The mirrorphone reverted back into its compartment and a retinal scanner swept across our faces. After the system confirmed who we were, the elevator started to sink underground. See, the ALFEA headquarters wasn't located in the skyscraper, but _under_ it.

The elevator opened, leading us into ALFEA's dark control room. Wide screens spanned all the walls from the floor to the ceiling and men and women were hard at work at their desks, operating two and three computers at a time.

"Ah, ladies. I've been expecting you." The director herself was approaching us, hands clasped behind back in a proper manner. Direct Faragonda was an elderly lady with thick white hair with kind eyes behind her glasses. She might've looked like the typical, friendly old lady but she was the biggest kick-ass I knew. "Seen the news lately?"

"Puh-leez. The news is far from reliable," said Stella distastefully.

"That might be true, but we don't know anything more. Palladium." Faragonda gestured toward the pale man with long light orange hair seated at the desk closest to us.

The professor nodded and the widescreen on the back wall pulled up black-and-white surveillance footage. It was of an aerial view of the Comet Clan's hideout. Well, used-to-be hideout. "This is from Satellite 5B," reported Palladium, playing the footage. Onscreen were me, Musa, and Bloom appearing in front of the door. "This was about zero-three-hundred." He sped up the recording as the camera switched to another angle of the building. We watched as two of Mikhailov's guys showed the Trix into a back door. "This was five minutes after."

The playback sped up even more, showing a bunch of guys in black suits swarming into the hideout. I held my breath, but stayed quiet. That was them. Not long after, one of them was rushing out with a briefcase in hand. The stolen weapon! We watched as the Trix showed up, managing to wrestle the guns out of the goons hands.

"At this point, the three of you were inside, recovering from the attack," informed Palladium as the recording played on, "watch this next part."The Trix managed to defeat the mysterious guys, grabbing the briefcase and fleeing to the rooftop.

We gasped. "So at one point, the Trix actually _had_ the weapon in their grasp," frowned Bloom, "that's…unsettling."

Palladium nodded, speeding up through the fight between me, the Trix, and the mysterious guys. While we fought, a goon managed to snag the briefcase and run. Seconds later, the Winx and Trix were disappearing off-screen, both parties on their way to chase down the stolen weapon.

Palladium paused the surveillance tape. "This next part is most troubling. Watch."

He continued the recording and we all watched in anxious silence. And just then, for no apparent reason, the building just set itself ablaze. We all gasped.

"So the fire started from the inside," said Tecna, deep in thought as Palladium rewound the segment. We watched again as the place set on fire. And not a living soul was in the scene.

"A rigged explosion, maybe?" offered Musa.

"We'd have to think so," said Faragonda calmly, "it's just a good thing you girls got out before it occurred."

"But this doesn't make sense. If someone knew about Mikhailov and his weapon, if _we_ were coming, they could've just blown us all into the next world," pointed out Flora gravely.

"Or maybe we weren't ever in the equation to begin with?" countered Stella, frowning deeply. "Maybe the place was only supposed to explode when the guys got away with the weapon. It could've been sheer luck you three managed to get out in time."

I scowled. I had really hoped Guy in the Yellow Hoodie would show up on the video, but he didn't. But I wasn't dismissing my theory about him just yet.

"There's no point in arguing about this further," spoke up Faragonda, "judgments cannot be based off assumptions. Who these people are, we have no idea. And until they decide to compromise another mission— _if_ they do, we won't put much heart into this investigation."

"Yes, Ms. Faragonda," the seven of us chorused. Though we agreed with the director, the seven of us were still uneasy. We couldn't let it go. This case…there was something odd about it, and the rest of the girls knew it. We couldn't just simply ignore this mystery. Our instincts were telling us there was more to this than meets the eye. That something or _someone_ far viler was at work here, patiently and quietly sitting in the shadows while things slowly unfolded.

And let me tell you: as a spy, _always_ trust your gut. We all had this unexplainable sixth sense—an urge that guided us. And right now, that urge was telling us to get to the bottom of this.

And trust me, that was _exactly_ what we were going to do.


	3. 1st Day, 1st Disappearance

**A/n: Thank you so much for all the positivity and support! Well, here's the 3** **rd** **chapter. Be sure to leave a review at the end. Thank you so much!**

 **Also, I'd appreciate it if you guys from** _ **Falling Apples**_ **would stop leaving reviews about it on my other stories. That's just rude! And it's NOT gonna make me write a sequel any sooner.**

* * *

I might've been a super-secret agent who could speak fluently in ten different languages, had access to tech that wasn't going to be introduced until the next decade or two, and was perfected in martial arts, but there was one thing my training could never prepare me for: high school.

Like, seriously. There was a different between waking up early for a _mission_ and waking up early for _school_. Early summoning from Director Faragonda meant the task at hand was urgent, crucial, and needed to be completed swiftly. But school? We had to get up early only to sit around on our asses for eight damn hours.

That was why I was so reluctant to sit up when our alarm clock chimed at six thirty. But, of course, Busy Bee Bailey had already been up for like…an _hour_ already. She'd already turned on the light and was modeling a pair of jeans in front of the mirror when I finally opened my eyes.

"Kill me," I groaned loudly, rolling off the bed and dropping onto the floor.

Bailey didn't even seem to notice I was lying on the ground like a bump on a log. "Do these look okay?" she asked uneasily, slowly turning in front of the mirror with uncertainty. "They don't look too… _middle school_ , right?"

"Well, you _look_ like a middle schooler as it is so naturally, _everything_ on you will look 'too middle school'," I grumbled, moodily rising to my feet. I wasn't ready for this shit. Not today.

Bailey was alarmed. "Mom says I look mature for my age," she said, leaning in close to the mirror to inspect her face.

"Where _is_ Mom?" I asked, noticing how unnaturally quiet it was out in the hallway. "Still out with Douche Diablo?" I was kind of disappointed. Here Bailey was, getting ready for her first day of high school. Mom was supposed to be here for moments like this, especially since Bailey's dad didn't hang around anymore. But _no._ She chose her dickhead-of-the-month over her own daughter.

The two of us spent the next half hour in silence as we got ready. I, who didn't give two shits on a stick about school, simply threw on a loose gray hoodie, a pair of jeggings, and black Converse, and bam! My first-day outfit. Mind you, I was only dressing up for school, not the freakin' Grammys.

West already had breakfast laid out on the table for us. Stephanie, who didn't have school until later, was still fast asleep, so it was just me and Bailey as usual.

"Will you drive Steph to school today?" I thoughtfully asked West as I forked my sausage onto Bailey's plate with disgust. Don't get me wrong, West was a good cook, but I _hated_ sausage. I only ate one-meat sausage, like turkey sausage or beef sausage. Not regular sausage, because that an absolute _abomination._ It was just a mash-up of different meats like pig, chicken, and turkey all drained, squeezed together, and cooked in the same cow's intestine. That was just gross (I was a picky eater).

West sighed obnoxiously, dropping his head onto the table. Useless deadbeat.

"I'll pay you five dollars," I deadpanned.

Next thing I knew, West was disappearing into the hallway. "Where did I put my keys?" he was mumbling to himself. Bailey and I rolled our eyes. That was our brother for sure.

Suddenly, the front door flew open and winded Mom was bursting in. "Good, you're still here," she sighed with relief when her eyes landed on me and Bailey at the table. I was relieved to see her close the door _without_ seeing Douche Diablo swaggering in behind her.

"Where were you last night?" I asked thinly, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Sorry, I knew I should've called, but Diablo's phone got disconnected—"

"Well, that's a first," I said sarcastically, sipping my orange juice. Diablo was a lawyer but couldn't pay his own bills? That meant he was either a suck-ass lawyer, possibly not even a lawyer at all, or just bad at managing his money. Stephanie could probably make better financial decisions (to be five, Stephanie already knew a lot about money. For crying out loud, the girl charged interest whenever you borrowed money from her, and she somehow always knew just how much you owed her, even if she didn't know the simple interest formula).

Mom ignored me. "I was going to stay over there, but I can't miss my girls on their first day." She smiled, and I immediately felt bad for being rude. She was tired. I could see it all over her face. Our living situation wasn't easy for either.

I glanced over at my phone beside my cereal bowl. "Well, I gotta go," I announced, slurping my leftover milk down and pushing away from the table. "I promised Stella and Aisha we'd meet up early."

I saw a tad bit of jealousy tug at Bailey's face. "You're so lucky to be friends with them," she insisted with a small smile, "you all must be popular." She brightened up. "It shouldn't be hard for me to make friends, then."

I didn't correct her. True, Aisha and Stella were rich girls, but our vibe wasn't like that, ya know. People might've known them, but they couldn't give a shit about me. And I was fine with that. I didn't need popularity. Especially when the actual popular girls were the type that made you want to slap the fuck out of them.

After posing for those silly pictures moms always took of their kids to add to the photo album, I headed out for school. Vehicular traffic on my street wasn't heavy in the morning, but the foot and bike traffic made up for the lack of cars on the road. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I started down the sidewalk. The thing I loved best about my street was the trees. On both sides of the street, medium-sized trees lined the street, their thick tops shading the sidewalk and road.

My street was a one-way and aligned with residential brick buildings, so lots of cars were parked on both curbs. Further down were a Starbucks, a laundry mat, and a cheap candy store. I crossed an intersection and kept straight down another narrow one-way, welcomed by a multitude of teens making their way toward the same building as me.

Elizabeth Victory High School (Victory for short) was like any other high school here in the city—brick with a façade of many windows. Back when I was living in Georgia for year, I'd learned that urban schools, particularly the ones in Manhattan, were _way_ different than suburban schools. In the suburbs, the school buildings were big, but isolated. They usually stood secluded on the fringe of the town, surrounded by nothing but the parking lot and a patch of trees. But here in Manhattan? It was _way_ different. For one, the buildings were a total different way. School structures here were taller and completely made of brick, blending in completely with the rest of the Manhattan. It was like you had one foot on campus and the other foot in the rest of the city.

Another thing I liked about Manhattan schools was the accessibility. Literally, the building connected to right of Victory had a street-level Subway and Dunkin' Donuts. And then further down the street was a coffee shop. There were several other eateries within half a mile's distance, so the junior, seniors, and sometimes the sophomores were often allowed off-campus to enjoy lunch.

But one bummer about Manhattan was the campus itself. Land here in the concrete jungle was scarce and expensive when available, so we didn't have running tracks and football fields like the suburban schools. That was why basketball was so ripe here.

I scanned the crowds, searching for Aisha's face (Stella never made it on time, so no point in looking for her). When I didn't spot her, I leaned against the building by the entrance, looking up at the sky. It was kind of cloudy today. A storm was due later. Was that a sign, hinting at what was to come?

I snapped out of my thoughts when I made out Bailey's voice among the dozen others. She was coming up the street with a crowd of other freshmen, giggling and talking. Well, it was good to see her already mingling in.

At the same time, a limousine was also making its way toward the school, slowly proceeding up the road behind a school bus. I rolled my eyes as the stretch limo slowly pulled up, parking on the curb in front of the school. Thanks to its tinted, bulletproof windows, it was impossible to see who sat inside the luxury vehicle. Bailey and her freshmen friends, paused dead in their tracks, pointing at the limo in awe as they whispered to one another, most likely wondering what "superstar" sat inside. However, their upperclassmen went on about their business like this was nothing new—it really wasn't, considering this was the exact same way Stella Solaria had been coming to school since the ninth grade. Having witnessed this routine for at least a year straight, they weren't even fazed at this point.

A man dressed in a crisp black suit with flawless white gloves respectfully nodded at me as he circled around the car to open the door for the "superstar". His name was Marcus Reynolds, an older gentleman I'd come to know over the years. And though he was a butler, he was also part steel. I nodded at him in return as he opened the door for his employer. Instantly, a high heel stepped out onto the sidewalk and Stella exited the limo, dramatically whipping off her sunglasses and shaking out her bouncy, well-conditioned blond locks in dramatic slow-mo. "Thanks, Marcus," giggled Stella, planting a kiss on her chauffer's cheek before sauntering over to me in her deadly high heels. "Heeeeyyy," she trilled, flipping her hair over her shoulder again. She giggled extra loud, noticing the group of fawning freshmen.

Like she did every year, Stella was _obviously_ going to bask in their praise. See, Stella was _always_ hot stuff among the freshmen, the somewhat weak-minded younglings who were always easily impressed with what high school had to offer. And it made things even better for Stella considering she was now a senior—a popular one at that. Everyone liked to suck up to the "big shots" on campus, and freshmen particularly were always the biggest kissasses, hoping getting in with the big kids would help them ascend the social rankings and make them popular among their freshmen brethren. And though there were actually strong-minded freshmen with their own unique individuality, all the ones I'd ever came in contact with had all been the same.

"Hey, Bailey!" Stella blew a kiss at my sister, who gave a shy wave and smile back. And just as Stella probably planned, Bailey's new friends squealed and swarmed around her, all of them trying to talk to Bailey at once. I rolled my eyes again. Just an hour ago, Bailey had been worried about making friends. Who knew she'd have some right before class even started.

Seeing his employer didn't require further assistance, Marcus nodded at us one more time before climbing back into the limo and pulling off down the road, going Grandpa-speed at 10 miles an hour. He'd be back when school ended, waiting outside in the same parking space. It was reserved, actually. Stella's dad had made sure of that the summer before we even started high school. If anyone beside Stella's butler even _dared_ park there for even just a minute, their car would be towed instantly and they'd be faced with a pricey fine. That's why even after Marcus disappeared around the corner with the limo, the long parking space stayed empty, which was a very rare sight in New York City.

"Wow. Two minutes early. You must've planed your outfit last night," I commented, ignoring the ding that came from Stella's purse. This was actually unusual. Stella Solaria was _never_ on time.

"Yeah, but then I got second thoughts about the heels," said Stella, reaching into her Tony Burch bag (one of her least expensive purses) and pulling out her huge iPhone, the newest model with a blue heavily decorated rhinestone case. Her screensaver was an old picture of us and the rest of the Winx when we were kids. "Oh my _gosh_ ," she gasped lowly as she checked her newest text, "Raelyn's having a part tonight!"

Oh fuck no. Not Raelyn Doughty. "No," I grumbled, answering the question I knew was about to come next. Before Stella could start whining, I spotted Aisha jogging up the sidewalk, her wavy hair flowing in the usual high ponytail behind her. Although Aisha was rich like Stella, she didn't put on the whole glitter-and-glamour act and chose to walk to school like everyone else (seniors _so_ did not ride the bus). And besides, being the athletic one out of the Winx, she'd been jogging to school ever since I could remember—even in kindergarten, you'd see little Aisha Andros running down the street while lugging her My-Little-Pony lunchbox behind her.

"Hey, girls. What's up?" she asked when she made it up to us, not out of breath in the slightest.

"Oh, I was just thinking about what I'm going to wear to Raelyn's party tonight," said Stella like it was no big deal, although it was a _huge_ deal to her. She looped her arms through mine and Aisha's. "Can you believe it, girls?" she said, amazed. "We're finally _seniors_. The big girls on campus." Aisha and I shared an eye roll. She'd been making a big deal about this ever since we first started high school.

As Stella enthused about being a senior, Aisha and I steered her through the open doorway and into the school. Contrary to most people's views on NYC high schools, the inside of our school was plain as day. The walls were made of brick and lined with black lockers, matching doors, and bulletin boards. The wall at the front entrance was lined with trophy cases, certificates, and anything else that could make our school look more significant in the slightest. When you walk further inside and turn to the left, you're welcomed by a wide hall with more lockers and doors, a few soda machines, a wide double staircase, and a sea of students. The school was literally the same from last term, except a wide banner welcoming the students was hanging over the stairs.

And seriously, the halls were so crowded and busy. There was the typical couple making out against the lockers here and there, the nerds were adjusting their glasses while talking about the new computer code they programmed over the summer, cliquey popular girls (Stella's group) were gathered at their ringmaster's locker gossiping and giggling about who hooked up with who, freshmen were whispering and talking and trying to imitate the popular girls while listening in on their gossip, members of the chorus were lugging around their huge equipment. Everything was doing something, making the halls so lively.

Aisha's and I's lockers were located right beside Stella's, which was both convenient _and_ unfortunate. It was nice being in close proximity to my friends, but that came with a price. See, since Stella hung out with the Group, her locker was located with the rest of the popular girls', meaning _my_ locker was with the rest of the popular girls'. And where there was the popular girls, there was always—

"Wow, Acadia. _Love_ the outfit. Finally able to afford _real_ clothes instead of your usual thrift store rags?" said Raelyn Doughty, flashing me a thumbs-up the second we were in earshot of her and her cliquey friends.

Oh, I know she ain't talking. It wasn't like Raelyn was in a better situation—most of the stuff she wore were either hand-me-downs from her older sisters, or something she "borrowed" from her friends and never bothered giving it back (she _still_ hasn't returned Stella's expensive sweater and it's been a _year_ ). Raelyn squinted at my top. "I think I saw that on the clearance rack at Forever 21." She gasped. "That makes more sense. Wait, you didn't steal it, did you?" This was Raelyn Doughty all day and all night. She was a pretty brunette and the overly feisty captain of the varsity cheer squad. She was the dominant type (and not in a good way)—every since middle school she'd been enthusing about owning high school. And now that she was a senior, she was making that dream a reality, meaning she was probably going to take bitchy to a whole new level ( _if_ that was humanly possible).

But okay, Raelyn was a straight-up _hypocrite. She_ was the klepto, not me! She nearly stole anything she could smuggle into her cheap-ass purse, but mostly makeup from the drugstore. I know because I witnessed her in the actat the drugstore nearby my apartment.

I scowled at her, turning to my locker. I scowled even more when I noticed all the chewed gum stuck on the door. Damn you, Raelyn.

"Enough," ordered Aisha calmly, sending a glance at Raelyn, shutting her up immediately. Raelyn just rolled her eyes in a _whatever_ manner, and went back to gossiping with Mavis Dunwoody and Sugar Dandridge (I called them the 3Ds because all of their surnames started with _D_ and since there was conveniently three of them, I couldn't resist the pun).

That was the thing about Aisha—nobody messed with her. _Nobody._ She was The Tough Girl on campus. Everyone knew to _never_ bother Aisha, or else there'd be was just as well-known as the 3Ds, but chose not to mingle with them and their stupid little group. Stella, however, felt the complete opposite because she immediately included herself in the 3Ds' conversation. Aisha and I rolled our eyes again. Just as we were about to head for the courtyard, the battle cry suddenly sounded further down the hall. The crowd in the hall then parted Red-Sea style, and the basketball team came charging through, beating on their chests and crying out like gorillas and savages. Leading them was no other than Reese O'Grady, the star player. He was like any other stereotypical jock—tan, muscular, and handsome with dark hair and eyes to match. The others (including Stella and the 3Ds) all started stomping their feet, whooping like animals, and shouting out the players' names. And though mostly everyone was calling out to Reese, no one was shouting his name louder than Raelyn.

"Let's hear it for the Victory Vikings!" shouted Reese, pounding on the lockers, rallying up the crowd even more.

Idiot. Aisha apparently thought so too because she got a super-squinty expression on her face.

"Yeah, baby! We're gonna win the playoffs this year" cheered Mace McCarthy, Reese's best pal, fist-pumping his little jock buddies. "All thanks to _this guy_!" He patted Reese on the back.

Oh, please. Reese might've been good on the court, but Aisha could put him to shame _easy_. _In high heels._

"Yo! Ray, my man," chuckled Reese, holding up a hand for Raelyn. But instead of slapping him high five, Raelyn grabbed a fistful of his Puma tee and yanked him closer, pressing a kiss onto his mouth. Even in high heels, Raelyn had to stand on her tip toes to reach Reese's lips.

"Eeewwww!" went the laughing crowd as Reese roughly kissed Raelyn back. They started making out in front of us, Raelyn rubbing all on Reese's toned chest while the jock rubbed her butt. There was even a little tongue action going on.

I hissed in disgust and Aisha shook her head. This was sad. Raelyn was making a fool of herself in front of everyone. She and Reese weren't even together. And it made things even worse Reese was the school's playboy. In fact, according to Stella and her sources, Reese had been hooking up with Melanie William-Johns, a junior, over the summer. And beforehand, right when last term had been close to ending, it was said that Reese got into a sophomore's pants at an end-of-school party. And yet, Raelyn was tongue-wrestling with the man-whore anyway. Where was her self-respect?

"Okay, okay. Break it up, you two," laughed Sugar, clapping her hands like the idiot she was.

Raelyn pulled away from Reese, breathing hard with a smile on her face. Reese pouted, matching Raelyn's beam. "I was just getting started," he whined playfully. Raelyn swatted him away, giggling.

Wait. Why were we watching these fools? "Let's go, Aisha," I said, grabbing her arm. We were supposed to be meeting up with Bloom and Flora in the courtyard anyway.

Right as we were turned to leave, that he-slut called out to me. "Yo, Jones!"

Oh. Fuck. No, no, _no._

I flashed the middle finger over my shoulder as Aisha and I proceeded down the hall in the opposite direction. Usually, stubborn Reese would've started harassing me, but even he had enough sense not to bad-talk me when Aisha was around. But just to make sure he wasn't sneaking up on us, I took a quick glance over my shoulder. He was still with his group by Raelyn's locker, but was whispering something to Stella.

Whatever. She could mingle with that guy-harlot for all I cared.

Elizabeth Victory High School was a huge structure, being four buildings linked together like a massive square. And directly within the center was a large square courtyard, complete with concrete sidewalks, benches, a few trees and small patches of grass, and a couple of vending machines. In the center of it all was a statue of Elizabeth Victory, founder of the school, which set in the middle of the water fountain.

Just as me and Aisha were wandering up to the water fountain, Bloom and Flora were coming out of the west building, in a deep conversation. It was just the two of them since Musa always got to school a little later because she had to drop off her little sister, Lyric, at her middle school, and Tecna had errands to run for her mom. Sounded pretty normal, right?

Normal. _Normal._ That's a term that hadn't really applied to us over the past few years. Sure, we might've looked and acted like normal teenage girls, but in a way, that was just a front. Our cover. But at the same time, it was the complete opposite—it was our real lives. Well, our lives outside of ALFEA. We were different. It was like we were leading a double life, but weren't at the same time. It was hard to explain.

We didn't go to high school, hang out with friends, and do teenager things all for the sake of hiding our identity. We acted like teenagers because we w _ere_ teenagers. Simple as that. We weren't doing all of this to only look normal—we were doing it because we _were_ normal. Kind of. Sure, we might've been top-notch spies, but we were also girls. And just like any other girl, we had dreams. We had things we wanted to accomplish outside of ALFEA. We wanted to live out our lives to the fullest without saving countries or stopping world-domination schemes. We simply wanted to conduct normal lives like we used to. _Before ALFEA._

And we acted just like any other girl—we gossiped, we giggled, we had sleepovers, we went to parties, we talked about boys. We didn't do all those things for the sake of our cover—

There was a saying—"a spy is as good as his or her cover". A spy's cover was probably the most important thing about being a spy—your cover was your alibi. We had them because we _needed_ them. Sometimes, in order complete a mission efficiently, a spy needed to be a different person in order to get a different aspect of the situation. Thus, some spies ended up being doctors, teachers, clerks, librarians. Basically, your typical every-day kind-of people. But that was all just a front—an act so to speak. All for the sake of appearing normal. To blend in.

But us? We were different. We weren't acting like typical teenagers to appear that way. We were acting like typical teenagers because that was what we were. Kind of. Again, it was hard to explain.

"Where's Stella?" asked Bloom when she and Flora joined us.

I pressed my lips together. "With Raelyn and the others." At school, Stella didn't hang out with us that much. She preferred to be with the Group, but she never neglected our friendship, so the rest of us really never complained.

Before Bloom could make a comment, Musa's voice called out to us. We turned to see her and Tecna rushing across the courtyard toward us. "Sorry we're late! I picked up Tecna on my way to Lyric's school, but Lyric forgot her lunch so we had to turn around." Musa rolled her eyes, but was smiling. "Little sisters." Though Musa could get a little annoyed with Lyric at times, I knew she meant more to Musa than anything, especially when their mother died a few years ago.

I snorted. "Tell me about it. Wait until she starts high school. It's gonna get even worse."

Flora brightened up. "Oh yeah! Bailey's starting school this year. We should sit with her at lunch." Ah, Flora. Sweet, sweet, sweet Flora.

"Uh, _no._ That's not happening. I already sit at the same table with her everyday at home," I protested, shaking my head. "Besides, she's already got new friends she can sit with."

"You should be more compassionate with your sister," insisted Musa, frowning a bit. "She's new here. Remember what that was like? Not fitting in. Struggling to recognize your social identity. Bailey's lucky she has a sister here, who should _always_ watch out for her. Really, Acadia, you should really learn to be more considerate of people's feelings."

Before I could defend myself, I spotted Shane Albright swaggering toward us. Shit. The playboys were really attracted to us today. Shane Albright (more like Not-Too Bright) as the basketball team's second all-star after his main man Reese. He too was a huge but was far taller and beefier than Reese with thick brownish hair and playful (a little _too_ playful for my taste) eyes.

"Hey, ladies," he greeted us confidently, winking at Flora. Out of all of us, Flora had the biggest boobs (freakin' _D_ cups!), so she was always the one attracting guys, no matter what part of the world we were in. And being a playboy, Shane was _obviously_ trying to snag Flora as his first-day hookup. But oddly, Shane didn't seem that interested in Flora. Instead, he was looking at Musa. "Hello, gorgeous." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Hi, Shane." Musa rolled her eyes at him.

"So, Raelyn's having a party tonight—"

Musa didn't even let him finish. "No, thank you. I don't really go to those kinda of parties. But thanks anyway." She gave him a small smile.

Shane looked taken aback. Never in his life had he been turned down so easily. I expected him to start being a jerk like Reese, but Shane just smiled playfully. "Feisty _and_ stubborn. I like it. I'll see you around, Melody." After another round of winks, the halfwit made his way back across the yard toward his basketball friends.

"What happened to being considerate of other people's feelings?" I countered at Musa, furrowing my brows at her.

The bell rang and we all started toward the school. "I wasn't harsh or anything. I just told him no," insisted Musa, moving some dark hair out of her face. Though Musa would always be an Asian goddess when it came to beauty, I always liked how she wore her hair. No matter how she styled it, she always kept her bangs in her face, which always complimented her smile and eyes. I used to be jealous of her. No matter what she wore, even if it was a potato sack, her beauty always seemed to radiate.

"And Shane technically doesn't count. He's an idiot," added Aisha with a snort, "he's a playboy, remember? He isn't considerate of any girl's feeling in the slightest. He just gets with them for a week and then moves on like nothing happened. If you ask me, his emoticons aren't worth regarding."

"But he _did_ seem genuinely interested in you," Bloom told Musa with a small giggle.

"Oh, no. Not Shane Albright. He'll just break Musa's heart," argued Aisha.

"And then Aisha will have to kick his ass," I added, "not that he doesn't deserve it now."

Musa shrugged. "Guys, guys. I'm not really looking for a relationship right now. Sure, Shane's cute, but he isn't my type."

"Now you sound like Acadia. You insist _no_ guy is your type," frowned Flora, "you have to think positive."

"Hey, I have my reasons for not trusting guys!" I spoke up, "and I'm with Musa. I don't want a relationship either."

Bloom smiled. "You say that now, but you never know what the future has in store. You might be falling in love really soon."

I snorted. "I highly doubt that."And I really did.

Guys were just heartbreakers. Nothing more, nothing less.

* * *

As already proven, I didn't like Raelyn Doughty. So imagine how screwed I felt when I walked into homeroom a few minutes later to see Raelyn sitting in the second row.

A scowl immediately fixed on my face as I had no choice but to sit down at the desk right beside hers. Bloom and Musa—thank goodness this wasn't _all_ bad—had managed to snag seats either in front or behind her, so I pretty much didn't have a choice.

And, as expected, Raelyn didn't even give me a chance to get comfortable before she was all over me (not literally, thank the _stars_ ). "So, Acadia. How was _your_ summer?" she asked, sounding somewhat sarcastic as she filed her nails. "I bet you just stayed home with your siblings the whole time." She snorted and shook her head as if she pitied me. "Poor thing."

I _could've_ gotten smart and pointed out that over break I'd been to Britain to stop a duke from blowing away half the continent, France to save the president, Hawaii to stop a second attempt at Pearl Harbor, _and_ the Bahamas to track down a fleeing crime boss, but I couldn't. That was classified information, so I just growled at her. "It's not like you did anything better."

"On the contrary. I was in Florida with my friends," gloated Raelyn, giving me a boastful look. "Mace's family has a yacht, so we mostly spent the whole time on the beach and ocean."

"Too bad you didn't fall in," I grumbled.

Before Raelyn could make a comeback, Mace McCarthy came into the classroom and stopped at Raelyn's desk. "Hey, you got enough Coke for the party?" he asked, "because my uncle can hook you up..."

By "Coke", they were obviously referring to beer and liquor. But the teacher had to run down to the office for something, so they could use the term loosely.

"Oh, that'd be great." Raelyn beamed. "Everyone's coming tonight—" Her eyes landed on me and she grinned. "Well, _almost_ everyone so it'd nice to have backup just in case we run out. Thanks, Mace."

I gave her a distasteful look and turned away. She obviously was implying that I wasn't invited. Not that I cared. I wasn't going anyway. I didn't _want_ to anyways.

"You can drop them off at my place after school," Raelyn was telling Mace, "Reese is supposed to be driving everything down there later on."

"Wow, Ray. You and Reese seem tighter than usual," giggled idiot Sugar from behind Raelyn. Ugh, she was so dumb. Thank the stars Mavis didn't have the same homeroom, cause I wouldn't be able to stand all the 3Ds at once. I could only take so much bitchiness.

Raelyn looked proud. "Yeah. The two of us got closer over break. He told me I'm one of the most important people in his life. I think that was his way of saying we're gonna become a couple soon." Oh, gag me. It was a known fact Raelyn and Reese were childhood friends. Thus, Raelyn acted like she _owned_ the man. She'd been madly crushing on him since _6_ _th_ _m-effing grade_ , but Reese didn't see her that way. Sure, they kissed a few times, but Reese kissed _everything_ with lips and a pair of boobs. He even tried making a move on Bloom once. But Raelyn was living in her own little fantasy world and failed to open her eyes to the truth.

She, Mace, and Sugar spent the rest of homeroom discussing the party, so I was pretty happy to get the eff out of there when announcements and attendance were finished. Musa, Bloom, and I had different classes, so we went our separate ways. On my way to AP English, I ran into Stella in the hallway.

"I was just gonna text you," she said quickly, pocketing her cell phone. "Reese told me to ask if you'd sit with us at lunch today."

I laughed harshly. "He's out of his damned mind more than I thought. No way I'm sitting among those womanizers and witches."

Stella made a face. "They're not _that_ bad." I widened my eyes at her. "Okay, maybe they are," she admitted, "but c'mon! You avoid him like you're scared of him or something."

"You know _damn well_ I'm not—"

"Then eat lunch with us! It's only this once. Besides, think of Raelyn's face when she sees you! She'll be _so_ heated." Even _Stella_ didn't like Raelyn to some extent, and they were in the same clique.

I couldn't help but smile. Raelyn obviously didn't like me, so her expression would be _priceless._ I smirked. "That sounds promising." She pulled my strings earlier, so it'd only be fair if I returned the favor. "Okay, fine. But _just_ this once," I warned, still smiling to myself.

Stella squealed and gave me a quick hug. "You're amazeballs, Cade. I'll see you at lunch," she called as she rushed down the hall toward her next class, her heels clicking loudly against the floor.

I chuckled to myself as I made my way to AP English. It wasn't everyday you got a chance to spite Queen Raelyn. I could already see her scowling like she didn't even like the sight of me. Well, too bad, Ray-Ray and get ready, because you were about to see a whole lot more of this chick.

* * *

There were a lot of things I thought I'd never do in life: disable a bomb, tangle with a duke, spend three days inside a cardboard box, and sit at the table with the popular kids as examples. I'd already been there and done that with the first three, so I really shouldn't have been surprised with the last night, the least extreme of the four. But, nevertheless, at lunch period I found myself squished in between Stella and beefy Shane Albright at the Group's lunch table. Being the popular kids, the Group's long table set in the center of the cafeteria _and_ the action.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Winx were sitting at our usual table—man, I kinda wished I was with them instead of here. At least there I wouldn't be nearly choking to death on Mavis's obnoxious ass-nasty perfume. But that was a small price to pay. And boy was it worth it! Raelyn had been—and still was—disgusted to see me sitting across from her and coughed up a funk-ass attitude. But when Reese had told her he invited me to eat with them, I could've sworn Raelyn turned fifty shades of red. She didn't have him on a tight leash and collar as much as she thought, now did she?

But right now, the gang was still talking about Raelyn's party, the one I _wasn't_ invited to. Raelyn was obviously discussing her party so much because she was trying to make me feel left out but it was all good, all good. I was having too much of a good time to care.

But I _was_ bummed out about one thing: the abomination food in this hood. Our school's food had always been disgusting, but it was grosser this year. I nudged my tray across the table at Raelyn. "I hate the fries," I gagged, scrunching up my face. No matter how much she denied it, I knew for a fact Raelyn loved junk food. Being a cheerleader, she always tried to lay off the carbs, but never lasted more than a month.

Raelyn shook her head. "Can't. I'm thinking about a crop top for tonight and I can't have a gut," she said grimly.

"More for me," announced Reese, reaching over and grabbing a fistful of my French fries and stuffing them into his mouth.

"You're an animal," I grimaced as he chomped on them loudly.

"Yeah, baby. I'm a tiger in and out," insisted Reese, bits of chewed food flying out of his mouth and landing on the table. Ugh, how did Raelyn like this chomp?

"So, Acadia. What are you wearing to the party tonight?" Mavis suddenly asked me with a kind smile. Raelyn shot her a look so fierce, Mavis shut up immediately. Advice: if you wanted to keep your status, _never_ go against Raelyn. Once she disowned you, _everyone_ disowned you. I didn't belong to anyone in the first place, so I didn't have anything to fear.

"So, Reese. Are the rumors true?" I yawned. "About you and Melanie William-Johns? I heard you were together over break. Oh, but that's right! You were on vacation in Florida. Hm. Must've happened after." I know that struck Raelyn hard because she looked taken aback. I bet she hadn't known about _that._ Especially right after vacation, in which she thought she and Reese had bonded. Tell me, were you still close to becoming a couple now, Ray-Ray?

Raelyn's face twisted with anger and embarrassment. "What's wrong with you?" she asked thinly. "Reese was kind enough to invite you to sit with us and you disrespect him like this by asking about nasty rumors like that?"

"Relax, Ray. It's true." Reese gulped down his Muscle Milk. "I spent a few nights over at her place. No big deal." And with that, he got into a conversation with Mace and Shane about basketball.

Raelyn wasn't ready for that one. Her face splotched with pink, tickling me. "Her" man had been sleeping with a junior over break, and right when she thought they were about to become a couple. Man, I kinda felt sorry for Melanie now. Raelyn was going to give her hell for sure. But she was gonna take a few shots at _me_ first.

"So, Acadia. How's your mom?" she asked, her voice dripping with sudden sweetness. "And your siblings. What about you guys' dad? Is he well? Oh, wait a minute! I forgot all _six of you_ are from a different guy. When she was younger, your mom must've had a hard time keeping her panties on."

And at that moment, it felt like Raelyn had just slapped me across the face. The table went silent. Stella turned red.

"Raelyn. That wasn't very nice." Mace frowned disapprovingly.

"What! I'm just saying!" said Raelyn innocently.

"Hey, I don't blame the woman. Gotta get it on in bed every once in a while," insisted Reese.

"Yeah, but there's such thing as protection." Raelyn rolled her eyes. "Then she wouldn't have got stuck with six kids."

That's it. I rose to my feet, staring fire into Raelyn. I was gonna kill her. But she grinned at me. And I froze. She wanted me to lash out at her. So I didn't. Instead, I turned around and walked away.

* * *

All of the Winx gathered together in Stella's penthouse after school. I always liked Stella's place. It was three floors of sleek, modern, and expensive white furniture accompanied by thick floor-to-ceiling windows that gave great views of the surrounding city (it was nice to look out a window and not see the indoor of a parking garage).

The rest of the Winx were sprawled on the furniture in the family room, while I chose to stand up by the window. I never felt comfortable sitting on Stella's furniture. I always felt like my jeans would ruin the flawless light cushions, though Stella always insisted otherwise.

Like usual, Stella's dad was out on a business trip, so we had the place all to ourselves. Well, there was always Marcus, who stood with a straight posture by the widescreen fireplace as he patiently awaited Stella's next instruction, but I didn't count him because he was always so quiet. And Stella's mom was hardly ever around because she and Mr. Solaria were divorced, so Stella was pretty much always alone at home, leaving her to do anything she wanted.

"I think I'm gonna throw the next party," she was saying thoughtfully, throwing her feet up on the glass coffee table as she filed her nails. "It'll _totally_ top Raelyn's."

Bloom, who was flipping through a magazine, just shook her head. "I don't think you should try to top her, Stella. Sure, she's a jerk sometimes—okay, _a lot_ of times, but she isn't all bad. Besides, she's super social so planning parties is sort of her natural talent."

"It's be wrong to take that away from her," agreed Flora.

Tecna snorted, typing away on her laptop in her lap. "I wouldn't call that a talent."

Aisha shrugged. "And _I_ wouldn't call her parties good. It's just a bunch of high school and college kids flirting with each other and making out."

"By the way, Acadia, I'm sorry about what Raelyn said earlier," spoke up Stella with a frown, "I didn't know she'd be so awful."

"It's okay. Bitches will be bitches," I snorted.

Before Stella could apologize again, her purse started to beep. And Bloom's. And Musa's. And Flora's. Even my backpack against the couch started to chime. We all knew what that meant.

We all stopped what we were doing and got out our Winx Watches. "This is Agent Wildfire with the rest of the team," reported Bloom into her butterfly-shaped communicator, pressing the gem in the center. "What's the situation?"

"We just received reports that not long ago, a figure on the CIA's watch list disappeared without a trace. According to our sources, he was last seen at the hotel he was checked into on 5th Avenue. Daniel E. Lewis, a man who has previously sold government secrets to several treasonous associations. I'm forwarding all information to you, Agent Digit."

Tecna's laptop dinged. "Got it," she confirmed, opening up one of the files.

"What's our job?" asked Musa into her Winx Watch.

"Infiltrate his suite and search for evidence, anything that could have possibly led to his sudden disappearance. Men like him simply don't vanish without a reason and we fear the worst."

"We're on it, professor. Winx over and out." She ended the call and then glanced around the room at us. "Well, girls. You know what comes next. Let's get ready to get in there."

* * *

"Housekeeping! Housekeeping!" called Bloom gently, knocking on the door with her knuckles.

At lot can happen in thirty minutes. Within that time span, we'd all loaded up into the Winxmobile and made a break for 5th Avenue. After Tecna hacked the hotel's registry logs, it hadn't taken me, Bloom, and Flora long to sneak onto the 12th floor via the ventilation shaft, swipe some maid uniforms off an abandoned housekeeping cart in a hallway, and utilize the art of quick change.

When no reply came, Bloom grasped the doorknob and slowly pushed open the door to find an empty room, just as we'd hoped. Moving swiftly, Bloom wheeled the housekeeping cart into the room with me and Flora on her heels. Flora closed the door behind us, switched on the lights, and we got to work.

"We're in," Bloom whispered into her Winx Watch.

"Be careful," advised Tecna over the comm, "Lewis was a very dangerous man. For all we know, this could be a set up." Tecna was back with Musa in the Winxmobile, which wasn't parked far from here, Meanwhile, Aisha and Stella were patrolling the perimeter.

Nothing was out of the ordinary about the suite. The bed was neatly made, the cushions on the furniture were nice and plush. But we knew better than to judge off appearances alone.

We zipped around the room, moving softly so our feet wouldn't leave impressions in the carpet. Flora checked the bureau and skimmed through the suitcases by the bed, Bloom searched the bedside cabinets, and I chose to investigate the closet.

There were more suitcases on the plastic shelf, so I pulled it down and opened it. I found a pack of cigarettes, painkillers, and a whole lot of condoms. Nothing suspicious here.

I moved over to the door on the west wall, pushing it open and walking into a tiled bathroom. The second my eyes landed on the bathtub, I let out a scream. Flora and Bloom came running, and immediately gasped in horror at the same sight. The lifeless body of a woman was lying in the tub, her blond hair bloody and eyes wide open, frozen with fear forever. But was even more scary was the knife, which was still embedded in her chest. Right in the heart.

"Wind Dancer? What is it?" snapped Aisha's voice over the comm. "Do you need backup?"

"No," said Bloom softly, staring at the body with eyes full of pity. "We found…a body."

"Lewis killed her?" guessed Flora uneasily, tensing up.

"Only one way to find out." Bloom was already taking out a thin credit-card looking device, fingerprint reader, leaning over the tub and scanning the knife's silver blade. "The supercomputers back at ALFEA have Lewis's complete identification in the system, so we'll send these to the professor so he can run an analysis," she said grimly, pocketing the scanner. "We need to get back to ALFEA as soon as possible."

Flora and I nodded. As soon as we stepped out of the bathroom, we nearly startled to see Icy, Stormy, and Darcy standing by the bed, all wearing similar smirks. "Well, well, well. Look at what we have here," snorted Icy, putting her hands on her hips.

"Bloom?" went Aisha's anxious voice.

"Not yet, Aisha," replied Bloom into her Winx Watch, eyeing the Trix. We didn't need backup. Not yet.

"What are _you_ doing here?" I demanded, folding my arms across my chest.

"Nice outfits. They really suit you," insulted Stormy, staring at our maid uniforms.

"Why do you think?" was Darcy's tart reply to my question. "The same reason you are. The disappearance of Daniel E. Lewis."

"Why would you guys care?" Flora frowned deeply.

"Because Lewis sold government secrets," answered Bloom, her now icy blue eyes locking with Icy's. "And from what I'm guessing, Cloud Tower was one of those organizations who paid for those secrets."

Icy clapped her hands. "Ooh, looks like we got a smart one! You're on point, red. We _did_ buy government secrets from Lewis. But that isn't why we're here. Lewis was in trouble with Cloud Tower. His moles had somehow managed to infiltrate our systems and steal classified information. Luckily, our collages were able to trace the theft back to him, and we weren't going to take his crime so lightly."

"In other words, you guys were sent to kill him," I growled. That was the difference between agents from ALFEA and agents from Cloud Tower. We were trained to save lives; they were trained to take them. They were assassins, plain and simple.

"Yes. We were going to kill him. But then he disappeared and we don't have any leads on the bastard." Darcy looked annoyed.

"Hmm. Out of anyone, I expected Cloud Tower to be behind his disappearance," stated Bloom, deep in thought.

"Well, you were wrong. We're just in the dark as you." Stormy looked pained to say it.

Bloom took a step forward, clenching her fists. "You… _witches_ make me sick," she growled through grit teeth, "all you do is think about killing for your own twisted games! For your own benefit! You don't even—"

That's when I saw it. As Bloom angrily went on, I turned my head toward the window to see a guy in a black suit standing on the rooftop of the building across the street. He was holding up a rifle. And was aiming it right at Bloom.

"Bloom!" I let out a bloody shriek, reaching out for her arm and yanking her back just as the bullet was shattering the window. Glass was flying everywhere. Aisha's and Stella's voices were screaming at us over the comm unit. Flora was leaping backward, using her arms to shield her face from the sharp shards.

"Bloom! What's happening!?" screamed Tecna through our Winx Watches.

Bloom, whose eyes were wide with shock, managed to hold up her wrist and speak into her watch. "Y-yeah. Just…shocked. Wait!" Her head snapped up. "The Trix! Where are they?!"

Sure enough, the Trix had managed to flee the scene. But I wasn't worried about them. I stared through the broken window, gluing my eyes to the rooftop across the street. The sniper was gone! "Shit! We gotta go!" I yelped, "Aisha, Stella, get to the Winxmobile _now_! There's a hit man on the loose! And I'm _not_ talking about the Trix!"

The three of us made a break for it, bursting into the empty hall. "How long until security makes it up here?" asked Flora as we turned a corner.

"One minute, thirty seconds," I hissed as Bloom crouched down at an air vent and removed the cover.

"Move!" she snapped at us and seconds later, crawling through the ventilation shaft, disappearing before we were even seen.

* * *

The street was chaos. Cop cars were already parked in front of the hotel, blocking off the entrances from the public. An ambulance was already at the scene and the EMTs were disappearing inside the building with the police. The media was already flocking in front of the building, trying to press the police for answers. Pedestrians were stopping and asking questions.

From a nearby rooftop, Bloom, Flora, and I watched in silence, back in our comfortable cat suits. Behind us, two other figures were leaping up from the fire escape to join us. "Find anything?" asked Aisha and she and Stella sided Flora.

Bloom shook her head. "Nothing but _that_ ," she replied, pointing down at the scene below as the EMTs rushed out of the building with something wrapped up in several sheets on the stretcher. The dead body.

"And the Trix?" Stella glanced at Bloom.

"Gone with the wind," I grumbled under my breath. "The sniper too. Think that was a coincidence?"

"We can't say right now," reminded Flora gently.

And just then, my prudent eye was spotting something suspicious yet again. A figure in a bright yellow hoodie was slowly stalking away from the crowd, looking around as if making sure no one was watching him as he pulled his hood over his head. "THAT'S HIM!" I yelled, jumping to my feet and pointing down at the street. "The guy with the hoodie!"

The other four girls' heads snapped in the direction I was pointing. Hoodie Guy was already disappearing around a corner. I didn't wait for the others to react. I was already making my way down the fire escapes, leaping down into the alley and charging into the street. I couldn't risk running out into the crowded street and drawing attention.

Instead, I had to cut through the connecting alleyways and a quick backstreet to find Hoodie Guy already disappearing into a crowd of people. And just like that, he was gone.

* * *

"Okay, so I think it's time to confirm Acadia's suspicion," Bloom announced, glancing around at the six of us. We were back in the Winxmobile, sitting around the touch-screen table.

I nodded. "Hoodie Guy was also there when Mikhailov got killed. If he's just a punk kid, why does he keep showing up at crime scenes?"

"I agree. He's definitely a suspect. But are you saying all of this is connected in some way?" asked Musa, deep in thought. "You say you didn't get a good look at the sniper, but he was wearing a dark suit. Think those were the guys who stole Mikhailov's weapon?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Bloom shrugged. "We don't yet have enough evidence to make a proper conclusion. But I _do_ _know_ that from now on, we have to keep an eye out for that guy in the hoodie."

"And we also need to watch our backs," added Aisha seriously, "these mysterious goons aren't just randomly showing up. Something else is at work. Something bigger and it's interfering with our mission."

"And what about the Trix?" piped up Stella, "and Lewis?"

"The Trix are probably on the hunt for him," replied Tecna grimly, "and they probably aren't the only ones. That sniper on the rooftop. Why was he targeting the hotel? He has to be in cahoots with whoever kidnapped Lewis."

" _If_ Lewis was even kidnapped," corrected Flora.

Bloom sighed. "There are a lot of variables in play, girls. Too many. So we shouldn't try to solve this mystery right away. More events will unfold—I can feel it. We need those pieces to fit into this puzzle first. _Then_ we can draw conclusions from there."

We all murmured our agreements. Though nobody else spoke, I knew we were all thinking the same thing. Something was about to happen. Something big. Something we'd never faced before.

I smiled. I liked surprises. They kept things interesting. And trust me, I knew for a fact things were going to be just that from here on out.


	4. The Party

**Thanks so much for all the reviews and support! It makes me feel so special to get feedback from you guys, even if it's only one word. I'm one to doubt myself easily, so reviews are super reassuring for me, almost like motivations. Even if the review's negative, at least I know someone's reading this story and that it isn't a complete waste.**

 **Winx—Thank you so much for your review! Your feedback made me feel so good! ^.^ Will the Specialists be in this story? Yes, of course! They're coming a bit later though. Will there be romance? Yes, but I don't know if there'll be enough romance to count as a genre. But there** _ **will be**_ **some for sure. I'm going to try to include all the canon pairings. Also, you said Ray and Reese were enjoyable to read. Well, you're gonna** _ **love**_ **this chapter.**

 **Boy, I'm so excited! I love writing this story so much! *squeals***

 **Well, here's the 4** **th** **chapter, in which is laced with drama. Enjoy and be sure to leave a review. TYSM! xoxoxo**

 **Warning: The level of bitchiness in this chapter is over 9000!**

* * *

Out of all the motherfuckers that existed on planet Earth, line-cutters were the absolute _worst._

It was around eight o'clock at night and I was _still_ angry as hell about what happened in the grocery store two hours before. Everything had been going smoothly until then. After the Winx and I had discussed Lewis's disappearance a little bit more, I had headed home to find out Mom had some errands for me to run. Thus, I'd walked around the corner to the grocery store to buy a few items as requested. Everything had been going smoothly. _That was_ until some white-trash bitch had decided to jump _right in front of me_ at checkout.

And me? I'd been so motherfucking pissed, I was super close to yanking her hair extensions right out, but I didn't. Instead, in the civilest tone I could muster, I had managed to say, "Ma'am, I was here first."

And then that rat-ass hood figure just glared at me and went, "So?" And checked out before me.

 _Man,_ I'm telling you, if the store hadn't been packed, I would've slapped that bitch so hard, she would've seen yellow, black, _and_ blue. But nevertheless, I did the impossible and kept my cool. Seriously, I needed an award or something.

I _hated_ fuckers who cut in line. Like, what the hell!? Those idiots had to be patience just like the rest of us, but _noooo._ They thought they were too good for that. That actually reminded me of this _other time_ some dumbass cut in line. It happened a few years ago back when me and my family had been living in Georgia. It had been a typical Friday evening. We all agreed to eat at McDonald's for dinner, so Mom packed us all up in the car and that was where we went. Unlike the restaurants here in Manhattan, this McDonald's, like all of them in country-ass Georgia, had a drive-thru. There had been a sign that said you had to drive _around_ the building and _then_ steer into the drive-thru lane, so that was what Mom did.

However, just as we had been pulling up to the speaker, some _big-ass van_ suddenly came out of nowhere and pulled up right in front of us! And _without_ circling around the building! That had really ruffled my feathers! Like, what the hell's wrong with people? Sigh. First world struggles.

Bored, I slid off my bed and lazily lay on the carpet. I could hear Stephanie in the living room watching SpongeBob and Mom's footsteps traveling down the hallway. She worked the night shifts at a local nightclub as a bartender, so she was probably getting ready for work.

West was cleaning the kitchen (for the first time in eight months) and Bailey were somewhere on her phone. Since today had only been the first day of school, we had no homework (thank the heavens), so I didn't have anything to do.

Suddenly, my smartphone vibrated in my pocket. I had a new text:

 _What time r u leaving?_

The fucking fuck? Who the fuck was this? I didn't recognize the number. But I replied anyway.

 _WHO IS THIS?_

 _Your man ;)_

Oh fuck no. I knew _exactly_ who this was. Reese O'Grady.

 _Wtf do u want? Htf did u get this number?_

Though I already knew the answer. Ugh, Stella. Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut? She knew I didn't like this male bitch.

 _Doesn't matter. When r u going to Ray's party? Maybe you'll give me something way spicier than this rum_

I could practically see Reese waggling his eyebrows at me. Dumbass fuckboy.

 _Im not going._

 _:( EVERYBODY'S going. Don't b the black sheep._

 _F off._

 _C'mon, Jones. Ray's been planning this party 4ever. Don't let her hard work go 2 waste._

I rolled my eyes. Please. It didn't matter if it took Raelyn _fifteen years_ to plan her party. As long as "her" Reese showed up, she'd be satisfied. I was about to tell Reese to fuck off again, but I froze as an idea came to mind. Raelyn would be pissed as hell if I showed up to her lame-ass party, especially after she had made it known I wasn't invited. I grinned. That _did_ sound kind of sweet. How could I resist such an opportunity? Besides, I wasn't letting Raelyn get away with what she had said about me and my family earlier. She outright _insulted_ us, and I wasn't going to stand for anyone badmouthing my family. Crashing her party would be the perfect chance for me to get revenge.

 _Wait, nvm. I'm on my way._

Ending the conversation with that, I went to my list of contacts and forwarded Stella a quick text.

 _Cadey: U left 4the party yet?_

 _Stells: I knew u wanted 2 go! I'll b ur place in 10 :)_

And that was that. I was going to Raelyn Doughty's back-to-school bash. Pocketing my cell phone, I went over to the mirror to inspect my reflection. I was wearing what I had gone to school in: dark gray sweatpants, the matching sweatshirt, and Converse. I was in the definition of casual wear. _Perfect._ While everyone was dressing to impress for Ray's party, I was gonna walk in looking like a lazy Sunday afternoon on a hot Thursday night. That would bother Raelyn for sure.

After glossing up my lips and grabbing my stuff, I was about to head out, but Bailey suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Where are you going?" she asked, eyes wide.

"A party. Now move it."

Bailey didn't move—in fact, she stiffened. "Is it that party everyone was talking about today? Can I come?" she asked automatically.

"No," I answered just as fast. "Now _move._ "

Bailey stuck out her bottom lip and pouted. "That's not fair," she whined, "I'm in high school too. I should get to go too if you're going."

"Bails, I'm a senior, you're a freshman. You don't belong at this party." I was being serious. I didn't want Bailey at Raelyn's party. I wasn't trying to be mean or anything, but I knew what sorts of shit went down at these kinds of events.

"But my new friends are going and they're freshmen!" countered Bailey.

"Well, you aren't them, are you?"

"Acadia, please!" Bailey was making those puppy eyes at me again. "That isn't fair! Why do you get to go out and do all the cool stuff with your friends, but I can't? All you do is baby me but I'm not a kid anymore!"

There was a moment of silence as I thought about it. Bailey was fourteen years old. She was growing up. Maybe it _was_ time I stopped treating her like a kid. I always hated how Mom used to baby me when I was younger, so I could see where Bailey was coming from. And it really wasn't like she was a nine-year-old kid anymore. She was a teenager now. She was in high school. Perhaps it was time for me to finally face the facts.

I let out a sigh of defeat. " _Fine._ I'll take you with me this _once_." It wasn't like I was trying to turn her into a party girl. I was only bringing her along so she'd see what a "big kid" party was like.

Bailey let out a small squeal and bounced lightly on her tip toes. "Yay! Thanks so much!" She pulled me into a small hug. When she pulled away, she looked me up and down and frowned slightly. "You're going dressed like that?"

"Yeah. What's wrong with it?" I looked down at myself.

Bailey wrinkled her nose. "You're supposed to wear cool stuff at parties. You know. Heels, skirts, dresses, and stuff."

I rolled my eyes. Puh-leez. Typical freshman. "Stella will be here in a few minutes, so hurry up and get ready." Bailey gave another squeal and then made a break for our closet. " _But,_ I'll only let you stay at the party if you promise me three things," I warned as my sister started leafing through her clothes.

"Mhm-mm. Sure thing." Bailey seemed more interested in the pair of skinny jeans she was taking out than my words.

Nevertheless, I continued. "For starters, you _will not_ drink," I said firmly, "don't drink anything anyone other than me gives you." I was super serious about the no-drinking rule. I'd been fourteen when I had my first beer and I didn't want Bailey to walk in my footsteps. She was _way too_ underaged to start those kinds of habits. "Secondly, be careful around the other guests," I went on, "there'll be a lot of people at this party, and most of them will be older than you. I'm not telling you to not trust anyone, but watch yourself. Don't follow anyone who's trying to lead you anyway from the party and _definitely_ don't leave with anyone other than me or Stella. If someone's touching you or harassing you, come get me and I'll whoop their ass. If someone's encouraging you to do something they shouldn't, just run and get me and I'll handle it. Don't take or accept or eat anything anyone other than me or Stella gives you. Thirdly, I just want you to trust your own judgment. You're getting older and you'll have to learn to make the right decisions for yourself on your own. You're in high school now and peer pressure is fiercer than ever. Keep your smarts and only stay around the friends you trust. If you or one of them is in danger, don't be afraid to speak up. You think parties are all fun, but sometimes they can be really dangerous, especially when alcohol's involved, and I wouldn't forgive myself if anything happened to you."

It wasn't everyday Acadia Jones gave words of wisdom, but I was fucking serious. I'd been to plenty of parties before and I had seen plenty of different situations, some of them violent. Bailey was my little sister and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything bad happened to her, especially if it was something I could have prevented. Bailey was young and kind of vulnerable. She didn't have the experiences I did. I just wanted her to stay safe.

However, Bailey didn't seem to notice. She was too busy wiggling into her pair of jeans.

"Bailey!" I snapped, "did you hear a word I just said?"

Bailey was opening the top drawer of our dresser, swiping my tube of clear lip gloss. "Yeah," she said, leaning in close to the mirror as she pinky-dabbed some on her lips. "Don't drink, get you if anything happens, and be careful around the others." She turned away from the mirror to face me. "I got it, Acadia. I'm not as dumb as you think. I know how to take care of myself. Will you just trust me for once?"

I bit my lip. I wanted to trust Bailey—and to some extent, I did. I just…I just worried about her, you know. She was my baby sister and I loved her. Contrast to Musa's beliefs, I _did_ look out for my little sister. I wouldn't even be worthy to call myself a sister if I didn't.

Bailey was young. She didn't know how horrific and scary the world could be. And honestly, I didn't want her to. That was why I had been so hesitant in my decision. But I couldn't hold Bailey back. If I continued to trust her like a child, she'd never have an understanding of reality. The _real_ one.

* * *

"Whose place is this?" I asked as I stepped out of the limo and onto the curb. I looked up at the tall residential building that loomed above us in the moonlight. I knew for a _fact_ this place wasn't Raelyn's. No matter how much she tried to boast and or act like she was the shit, her family wasn't that better off than mine. Her dad was a single parent like my mom and had four daughters, Raelyn being the youngest. Raelyn's Jeep was only a hand-me-down from Raelyn's dad's current long-time girlfriend (and was a piece of shit in my opinion but whatever. A car was a car). Raelyn's dad was super strict about money, so Raelyn had to work at a bar somewhere to earn her own (she was eighteen, so it was totally okay).

"It belongs to one of Raelyn's friends," responded Stella as her limousine disappeared down the street into the night. "They're out of town until the winter." When Stella caught my eye, she rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, don't worry. Raelyn asked first."

I didn't believe her for a second, but I stayed quiet as the two of us and Bailey entered the modern lobby. I rolled my eyes at Bailey's squeamishness as we stepped into the elevator. She kept shifting from foot to foot, smiling nonstop as we rose to the top floor. She was really excited about this.

When the doors slid open, me and my sister followed Stella down the hall toward the only door on the level. Whoa. These friends of Raelyn must've been really loaded. The door was already unlocked, so it was easy to slip inside the apartment.

Bailey's eyes grew super wide the second we stepped into the party as if she'd never witnessed something so… _lively._ People of all different kinds were sprawled out on the furniture while others danced and talked with each other. Others were flirting, smoking, drinking. The typical party. But Bailey looked so amazed as if she had never seen teenagers socializing before. She just stood there frozen like she didn't know what to do. Lucky for her, I did.

The first rule to partying was to _always_ start the night off with a drink. But, of course, I wasn't going to let my little sister have a real drink. Thankfully, Raelyn had thought of everything and included a table of virgin drinks against the back wall. Though all the non-alcoholic drinks were very pretty and neat, the table looked untouched. What did you expect? No one came to parties just to sip on mild shit you'd pack in your little sibling's lunch bag. But alas, Bailey was _my_ little sibling so she wasn't getting any of the legit stuff.

I asked Bailey what she wanted and her eyes swelled with wonder at all her different options. In the end, she chose the passion fruit sangria and I had a cup myself. Usually, I would never even near the virgin drinks, but the sangria looked so gorgeous with the kiwi, star fruit, orange and lime slices floating in it. The looks, however, didn't make up for the taste. It tasted like ginger ale. It wasn't even that strong but Bailey must've thought otherwise because her eyes were tearing up after one sip. I rolled my eyes at her. She'd always been the dramatic type.

It didn't take long for Bailey to locate her friends. I watched them for a few and after seeing she was alright, Stella and I helped ourselves to some _real_ had _really_ taken extra precaution with the alcohol. Apart from the diverse variety of fancy drinks that decorated the table, coolers and sixers of beer were everywhere, ensuring there'd be enough to satisfy every guest's thirst.

Stella decided on a cocktail with a red sugar rim while I simply grabbed a Bud Light. I didn't need anything fancy or pretty—as long as I got a kick, it didn't matter what I drunk. Afterward, Stella grabbed my arm and steered me into the kitchen. The countertops were already a wreck with bags of chips, pizza, and bottles of rum. Mavis, Sugar, and Mace were gathered around the island, and I nearly felt disappointed to see Raelyn wasn't with them.

"Stells! There you are, girl!" Mavis was already making her way toward us, holding out her arms. The two gave each other a playful hug (totally ignoring the fact they had just seen each other at school). What surprised me next was when Mavis looked at me and gave me a friendly, pearly white smile. "I'm glad you could make it, Acadia. I don't really see you at a lot of parties, so I hope you enjoy yourself tonight."

Actually, I'd seen Mavis at _a lot_ of parties, but she never really saw me because she had always been with the Group. But now that the Group's ringleader, Raelyn, wasn't around with her whip, Mavis was finally taking it upon herself to acknowledge me. However, I knew for a fact this string of friendliness wouldn't last long. As soon as Raelyn decided to make her entrance, I'd go back to being the average no-name guest. But I didn't mind or hold that against her. Technically, I wasn't even supposed to be at the party anyway so…

"Thanks," I said cheerily, gulping down half of my beer. I planned on enjoying myself tonight. And not _just_ to get on Raelyn's nerves. Things had been kind of been stressful lately with our missions and everything, so it was nice to sit back and have a little fun for once.

"Hey, so Acadia." Mace set down his bottle of rum and frowned. "About what Raelyn said earlier…She was being a bitch and I wanted to apologize—"

"No, it's totally okay," I interrupted, chugging down the rest of my beer. "Bitches will be bitches."

And speaking of bitches, as if on cue, Raelyn and Reese entered the kitchen. His arm was thrown around her shoulder and they were laughing. I smiled wide. They looked happy together. Well, that ended right—

Raelyn's hawk eyes fell on me immediately. Her mouth immediately set into a scowl. "What's _she_ doing here?" she hissed.

I smiled even bigger. "Hey, Ray. Nice party."

"Jones!" Reese separated himself from Raelyn and punched me in the arm playfully. "I knew you'd show!" he let out a loud laugh. "What made you change your mind? Maybe you _do_ have a thing for me."

Shut the fuck up.

Raelyn wasn't having this. "Acadia, what the hell are you doing at my party?" She was glaring fire and brimstone at me.

"Relax, Ray. I invited her. It's no big deal," said Reese, waving away Raelyn's hostility like it was nothing.

"Hey, Reese, I was actually meaning to ask you something," spoke up Mace, "about this season. What if we tried that play from last year…" Handing Reese a beer, Mace led his pal out of the kitchen as they entered a deep conversation about basketball.

Acting like I didn't notice Raelyn sneering at me, I tossed my empty Bug Light can into the trash bin and took up one of the glass bottles of rum off the island. "Wanna share?" I offered Stella after a long swig. "It's black cherry."

Stella, who had long finished her cocktail, didn't even think twice before she was taking a few sips. After handing it back to me, she leaned across the counter to say something to Mavis. "So, Mavis, how are things going with you and Mace?" she asked curiously. "Do you know if he's interested in you yet?"

Before Mavis could answer, Raelyn let out a big sigh and smacked her hand against the counter. "I can't believe this," she said to Stella, Sugar, and Mavis in particular, apparently not caring that she was disrupting their conversation. "Can you believe he invited her?" she said loudly, shaking her head as if utterly disappointed. "He knows what kind of person she is, so why does he bother? Why can't he see she's just a waste of his time?" She was talking about me as if I wasn't standing right there. As if she was refusing to acknowledge my presence. That was okay. I'd just _make_ her.

"I'm standing right here, baby," I reminded, drinking from the bottle again.

I got Raelyn's attention all right because her head snapped up at me. In her freakishly high high heels, she walked around the island, approaching me.

"Look, I don't know or _care_ what's going on between you two, but it's irrelevant either way," she laughed coldly, "Reese is only talking to you because he feels sorry for you. That's it. He doesn't like you, and neither do I. Point _blank_."

"Well, that certainly explains why he's hanging out with _you_ ," I countered, setting the bottle down on the granite.

Raelyn laughed harshly. "I've known Reesie since we were kids. I've known him longer than _anyone._ I'm the closest person to him—in fact, he already told me I'm the only one he needs. So stop being such a bitch while you're ahead and quit messing with us."

I coughed obnoxiously. "He told you you're the only one he needs for _what_ , exactly? You're the only one he needs to swell his ego even more? Or are you the only one he needs at his beck and call? Because it seems you always are."

"It's called being a good friend, you dumb bitch." Raelyn rolled her eyes at the ceiling, her voice thick with a resounding _duh._ "Reese and I have something you can only dream of having with him. With _anybody._ So stop trying to weasel your way into our relationship."

I laughed as if I had just heard a hilarious joke. "Relationship? What relationship? You two are far from being in a relationship, honey. It's time to face the music, sweetheart. Reese doesn't think of you that way, no matter how much he tells you otherwise. Sure, the two of you might be close friends, but that's about it. And please, don't think I like Reese even for a second. I have better taste than that."

At this point, Stella, Sugar, and Mavis were completely quiet, watching us anxiously. There were a few others in the kitchen, but they were too busy smoking and drinking to notice us. Others were regularly walking in and out, but only to snag some rum or snacks. So, basically, no one really gave a fuck about us. This sort of thing happened at parties all the time, so it wasn't really worth wasting time acknowledging. That was a good thing.

"You think you know everything, don't you?" Raelyn flipped her brown hair over her shoulder. "Well, guess what, Acadia Jones? You don't know _shit_ , especially about me and Reese. Open your eyes for once! I'm trying to _help_ you for Christ's sake! I'm giving you a fair warning, but you're over here acting like a smart-ass when you don't even have a freakin' clue."

This bitch was so naive. But I didn't say it to her face. Instead, I just rolled my eyes. "Fine, Raelyn. You're _totally_ right. I don't know _anything._ Since you're all seeing and all knowing, just let me drink in peace, dammit." Leaving that hanging in the air between us, I went back to drinking my rum.

Raelyn, who had apparently lost interest in me anyway, snorted and went back to talking among her friends. "I feel so sorry for her," she said with pretentious pity, "she's so desperate and naïve." She shook her head again. "Can't she see she'll never get between me and Reese? Ugh, some people never learn."

Okay, fuck this bitch. I was tired of hearing her half-assed shit. Thus, I retreated back into the living room in search of Bailey. I immediately found her where I left her. She seemed way more comfortable with her friends and was sitting among them on the couch. When she spotted me, she smiled. I smiled back. Hm. I really didn't need to worry. Bailey seemed just fine on her own.

I immediately felt myself calming down. Bailey was having fun. That was all that mattered. I didn't need a shit like Raelyn spoiling my mood. I smirked. In fact, I was gonna go right back into the kitchen and—

"Jooones!" Before I could react, a pair of hands was grabbing my waist and I was being lifted up into the air.

"Reese! Put me down!" I hissed, kicking my feet as he slung me over his shoulder.

"No can do, Jones. You're mine for the night," went the arrogant Reese O'Grady, carrying me into the kitchen, where, might I add, Raelyn and her crew was still talking. Oh boy. Round Two.

The second Reese stepped into the kitchen with me over his shoulder, the kitchen went deadly silent. Well, it _would've_ been deadly silent if Stella hadn't said, "Hey, Reese. Are you and Acadia having fun?"

Raelyn shot Stella a _shut your ass up_ glare as Reese sat me down on the island. "Damn straight." Reese grinned and then winked at me. "Isn't that right, Jones?"

I responded with a simple yet annoyed, "Bitch."

"Playing hard to get, hmm? I like a girl who could put up a good fight."

In that case, Raelyn would _never_ score a relationship with him. Reese wasn't straightforward. Reese liked to play games. He liked to _toy_ with emoticons like they were his playthings. Nevertheless, Raelyn wanted him and she wanted him _bad._ I would admit, Raelyn was the baddest bitch at school, but she would do _anything_ for Reese. When it came to him, she'd break easily. She had been pursuing him for as long as I could remember, but he never took her feelings seriously. Because he himself _wasn't_ serious.

Okay, let's be 100% real. Raelyn was _super_ in love with Reese, so she was making herself _super_ easy to get. And being the big playboy Reese was, it'd be _easy_ for him to wheel in Raelyn and play her like a fiddle, but he didn't and he _wouldn't._ Raelyn was just too easy of a prey for him.

"Ooh, Reesie, now that you're here I can finally give you that _thing_ you've been asking about _._ " Raelyn perked up, apparently forgetting I was sitting in her presence. She unlocked the liquor cabinet and look out a tall, gorgeous bottle of rum. "It's eighteen years old," she said proudly, handing it to Reese. "When I was born, one of my dad's friends congratulated him with this. Dad saved it for me until I was old enough and told me to share it with someone special."

Whoop de doo, good for you, Raelyn. I rolled my eyes. She was _obviously_ hitting _hard_ on Reese. Stella rolled her eyes and went back to talking with Mavis and Sugar.

I didn't expect Reese to refuse the rum. "I can't take that," he insisted, shaking his head. "Mr. Doughty told you to share it with someone special, not a punk like me."

Oh, he was a punk alright.

"But you are special," argued Raelyn, "you're the most important person in my life and always will be. You're the _only_ one I'd give this to."

I cringed. So basically, Raelyn had just admitted her friends weren't important to her. Too bad Sugar and Mavis were getting way too wasted to care. They were giggling obnoxiously and babbling on about nonsense like the idiots they were.

Reese grinned. "Thanks, Ray. You know I love you like crazy, right?"

Gag me.

Raelyn giggled. "Of course I do."

"You know what else I love?" Reese took a huge plate of buffalo wings out of the huge Sub-Zero refrigerator. "Shane's dad's famous wings. What do you say, Jones?" He opened his mouth wide as if expecting me to pop one of the boneless wings into his mouth.

"You're fucking crazy," I grunted half-heartedly. I was too busy eyeing Raelyn's bottle of aged rum on the counter. Man, I bet that shit was tasted like spicy heaven.

Raelyn didn't waste a second. Since I had more common sense and wasn't going to baby, Raelyn stuck one of buffalo wings into his mouth. "Mhm-mmm," went Reese, loving the attention. "Thanks, Ray. At least _somebody_ will show me some love."

Raelyn got all giggly again. "Of course, Reese. I'll _always_ love you like crazy."

But little did Raelyn know Reese would never feel the same way.

* * *

About an hour later, the party was in full string. At this point, everyone was basically wasted, so things were _finally_ getting crazy. A senior girl was stripteasing on the kitchen table, people were thrashing their heads around to the music and screaming like they didn't give a fuck, others were puking their heads off. Okay, that last part wasn't cool, but whatever.

I loved it when people got drunk, because I could sit back and watch everyone go wild while I stayed sane while chugged all the beer I wanted. See, I had this "special ability". I knew how to drink without letting it get the best of me. In order words, I knew how to hold down my alcohol. In other-other words, I couldn't get drunk. So while everyone else was basically out of their mind, I could watch the fireworks go off while perfectly in my own.

But right now, I wasn't interested in watching people eat their underwear or drown themselves in beer. I was looking for Stella. I hadn't seen her for about forty-five minutes, and I was getting a bit worried. Before she disappeared, Stella had been drinking pretty hard. She didn't have my "special ability", and I didn't want her doing anything stupid while she was high. I had already located Bailey somewhere drunkard-free, though I didn't know how long it'd stay that way. It'd be time to leave soon anyways. Tomorrow was a Friday, which meant school.

Carrying my bottle of rum, I walked up the stairs onto the second level of the apartment. It smelt heavily of smoke and beer. The usual. I found the study to be full of smokers, and a couple was hooking up in one of bedrooms. "Lock the door next time, you dumbasses," I shouted before slamming the door shut. The door all the way at the hall was open, so I wandered in to find Raelyn, Stella, Sugar, and Mavis.

The bedroom was the master, so there was a sitting area deeper into it where Raelyn and Stella were seated in their chairs beside the fireplace. Mavis was lying on the bed and Sugar was sitting on the floor taking back a Bug Light.

Raelyn groaned loudly as I walked in and closed the door behind me. "Gosh, why can't I ever catch a break?" she complained, letting her head fall back onto the headrest.

"I love you too, baby girl," I said, kicking off my shoes and walking across the plush carpet and over to them. I made myself comfortable in the third armchair, pushing the footstool aside with my foot. "So what's new?" I asked casually, slowly sipping on my rum.

"We're talking about the guys we wanna bang," blurted Sugar, gulping down the rest of her Bud Light. "Christ, Shane is _sooo_ fine. I'd do him _any_ day. _Christ_ , he gets me the hot."

Shane Albright who didn't happen to be too bright? No way in fuck. Sure, he was pretty handsome, but he was just a milder version of Reese. Trust me, I was good. Besides, Shane was kind of into Musa.

Mavis sat up, giving a bubbly laugh. "So true, but we all know I've been into Mace since seventh grade. I don't know how he feels about me yet, but I have a good feeling. He told me I could come over whenever I wanted."

Raelyn, Sugar, and Stella squealed with delight. "And it's _super_ obvious Raelyn and Reese are gonna get together," insisted Sugar, moving on to her second can. She flipped her dark brown hair over her shoulder.

Raelyn nodded, throwing her foot up onto her footstool. "We _all_ saw what happened in the kitchen. He's already made it clear I'm the special person in his life. I think that was his way of telling me he's into me, ya know?"

" _Totally_ ," agreed Mavis, putting way too much emphasize on the word. "He's probably just shy. You two have known each other since you were kids so it's probably awkward for him to break that 'barrier'. You two are childhood friends and he doesn't want to risk your relationship even if he wants to take it to the next level."

I just stayed quiet, drinking my rum. This was kind of entertaining, watching and listening to these girls frolic in their own naïve little fantasies.

"Yeah, I know. I mean that much to him, so I'm just going to be patient," said Raelyn casually.

"Hey, have you guys noticed something?" piped up Sugar, "the guys we're into all have names that start with the same letter as ours. Raelyn and Reese, Mavis and Mace, Shane and Sugar. That's gotta mean something, right?"

"It means it's _definitely_ meant to be." Raelyn nodded. "Stells, you had _better_ find a guy whose name starts with S. Like a Shawn or Steve. That'd be super cute."

"Well, there _is_ this guy who works for my dad," giggled Stella, twisting some blond hair around her finger. "His name's Samuel."

Oh, I knew who she was talking about. That young college kid who had managed to score an internship with Stella's dad's company. He was cute and really nice, especially with Stella. I _would have_ approved of paring them up _if_ Aisha and I hadn't looked up his records and discovered he already had _four_ kids (perks of being a government operative. The government's information was _your_ information—well, most of it. _Some_ of it. And it wasn't like Aisha and I had been trying to stalk him or anything. Our original goal had been to make sure he didn't have any felonies (we knew all too well that people often weren't what they seemed), but boy had we found something more surprising). However, Stella didn't know about that yet because we'd originally thought her crush would only be a seven-day thing and that she'd get over Samuel real quick, but since that obviously wasn't happening, I would have to drop the bomb on her later.

Her friends squealed again. "That's _so_ perfect. We could go on double-double dates," giggled Sugar.

"Maybe we could all get married on the same day," suggested Mavis playfully, "we could all fly down to the Bahamas on our honeymoons."

Before anyone could say anything, the bedroom door swung open and Melanie William-Johns sauntered into the room (boy, how could she even balanced herself in those heels?). I held back a smirk as the room fell quiet. Well, things were about to get tense _again._ See, Melanie William-Johns was known as…well…the school slut. She usually wore skimpy clothes but she seemed skimpier tonight in her super-short dress, which was strappy in the back and super revealing in the front.

See, to begin with, Raelyn had never really "cared" for Melanie to begin with, but they had always been "cool" in a bitch-to-bitch sort of way. But now that Reese had admitted to hooking up with Melanie over summer break, it didn't take a rocket science to know Raelyn would be more than pissed off with her.

And, of course, I was 100% right, because Raelyn rose from her chair the second Melanie made herself comfortable on the footstool I had moved to the side of my chair, setting her huge black purse (word had it that she carried a _whole pack of condoms_ in one of its compartments) on the floor at her feet.

"Uh, what the fuck are you doing here?" asked Raelyn coldly, putting her hands on her hips in that _I'm a bad bitch_ manner.

Melanie, whose heavy perfume was straight up _killing_ my sense of smell, just snapped her gum and took out her phone like she didn't give a fuck about Raelyn. "This is a party, isn't it?" she said sarcastically.

"Here here," I said, raising my bottle of rum before drinking from it.

Raelyn sighed and facepalmed as if saying _this is just great_. "It took me all summer to plan this party. Tonight was supposed to be _perfect_ but so far, two inconsiderate bitches have already crashed it."

Melanie didn't seem to mind that Raelyn had just called her a bitch to her face (being her, that probably happened a lot). "Who's the second?" she asked calmly, sticking her phone back into her purse.

"Right here," I piped up.

The left corner of Melanie's mouth tugged into a small smirk. "Cool."

And it was at that moment I knew I _definitely_ liked Melanie.

"Just leave it alone, Ray," spoke up Stella, crossing a leg over the other. "This is your party, remember? Try to loosen up and have some fun."

"You're right. You're right." Raelyn sighed again and sunk back into the armchair. "I don't need any of this. I just need to relax. Apart from these two…interruptions, everything's going smoothly. Now, where were we?"

"The guys we like." Sugar moved some hair out of her face. "Damn, I wish Shane would hurry the hell up and ask me out already." She started fanning herself with her hand. "I'm tired of waiting on his ass. A girl has needs, you know."

Melanie snapped her gum again. "Don't bother. Shane won't satisfy them. His dick's small."

I choked. No. She. _Didn't._ I burst out laughing. I couldn't help it.

Raelyn rolled her eyes as Sugar's face went red. "Christ, you're _such_ a _slut_ , Melanie. All you think and talk about is sex. It's not normal."

Melanie just shrugged. "Hey, she's the one who brought it up. I was just giving her a fair warning, that's all. I've seen Shane down there a lot. So the hell what?"

It had been said the whole basketball team had slept with Melanie. And from the way she was acting, it started to sound like those rumors weren't _entirely_ true.

"Just shut up, Melanie. You don't know anything. You probably have him confused with someone else you did, which is TOTALLY possible since you've slept with majority of the male population at school," hissed Sugar, whose face was twisting with jealousy and hate. See, though her name might've implied otherwise, Sugar was actually eighty-five percent spice. No, _eighty-eight_ percent spice. And don't mess with her when she was drunk. Then she was just straight up savage. And mean.

"You can believe what you like, but I'd _never_ get Shane confused with someone else," insisted Melanie simply, "I was with him for like…most of last term." And then she moved on to Reese the summer afterward—or so the rumor said. Wow, this girl was busy.

"Yeah, and half of the school," snorted Raelyn. "Like, seriously. How many STDs do you have now?"

"None. Why risk getting one when I can just use protection?" asked Melanie, giving Raelyn an _are you stupid?_ look.

"Well, that explains how you haven't got knocked up yet," yawned Raelyn, "and also why you carry a whole book of condoms in your slut bag."

Melanie didn't say anything.

"Want some?" I offered Melanie my bottle of rum. With all the shit people were spreading about her, she was in need of a good kick.

Melanie shook her head. "I'm only here for a few minutes before I gotta go someone else."

"Yeah. Some dude's apartment," snorted Raelyn, "you know what, Melanie? I feel _so bad_ for you. To make yourself feel special, you just mess around with random guys. You _ruin_ relationships all because you're too sorry to get yourself a _real_ one. And what are you going to do when you get out of high school— _if_ you get out of high school?"

Although Melanie was the same age as us, she was a junior. Everyone just assumed she got held back or was stupid or something, when all that probably meant was that she had a late birthday. For crying out loud, Raelyn, who had never been held back in her life, was a senior at eighteen while most of us were sixteen and seventeen. "Shut the fuck up, Raelyn," I growled warningly.

"Yeah, Ray. Lay off her a little." Stella frowned.

Raelyn ignored me, but glanced at Stella. "She needs to hear this, don't you think? Being a slut will only get her so far." She turned back to Melanie. "You _do_ know strippers and prostitutes don't get a 401K, right? Just giving you a warning since those are the only jobs you're qualified for."

Melanie just sighed. "Whatever, Raelyn. I have somewhere else to be and I'm not gonna waste my time sitting around here taking your shit." She rose to her feet, taking her huge purse. And with that, she took her leave.

"Thank the stars," muttered Sugar, hissing at Melanie as she disappeared down the hall. "Although she just got here, I thought she'd _never_ leave."

"Some people just have that negative vibe." Raelyn looked directly at me when she said this.

"Right back at you, babe," I snorted.

"Tch, what the hell ever." Raelyn gave me her signature eye roll and went back to talking about boys with her friends.

Yes, what the hell ever was right because I was so done with them. Plus, I had to pee. Like, _really bad._ Seeing Raelyn was done with me _again_ , I slipped out of the room, dropping my empty rum bottle into a trashcan in the hallway. After I took a quick bathroom break, I'd head down to the kitchen for more before it was time to leave.

Hmm. Bathroom, bathroom. Where the heck was the bathroom at in this joint?

I tried one of the doors, which led to into an occupied bedroom. The second I saw clothes on the floor and a tangle of legs on the bed, I slammed the door shut. "Seriously, why can't you dumbfucks lock the door?" I snapped before storming back down the hall. Seriously, if I was getting it on with someone _in a place loaded with wandering_ _ **drunk**_ _teenagers,_ the first thing I would do was lock the freakin'—

I froze the second I tried the next door. My mouth dropped open. I was in shock. Not because I had managed to finally find the bathroom. But because Reese O'Grady was sitting on the lid of the toilet, making out with Melanie, who sat on his lap with the bottom of her dress hitched up and around her thighs. I nearly fell the fuck over, but not before I quickly closed the door.

Uh, on second thought, I could hold it until we got home. Pretending like I hadn't just walked up on my school's playboy and slut hooking up, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and kept on walking. Nothing to see here.

But didn't Melanie say she had somewhere to be? That "somewhere" couldn't have been the bathroom for five minutes of fun with the fuckboy. Who knew? Raelyn had been talking all that shit about Melanie, so Melanie was getting revenge by getting something from Reese Raelyn could only _dream_ of. _Nice._

I walked into the kitchen. There was still a lot of liquor left out. Sweet. When all of this was over, I was totally gonna get Stella to ask Raelyn if she could have the leftovers. We'd be hooked up for _weeks._ Speaking of Stella, it was about time we packed up and left. I was getting annoyed with this place and Bailey needed to go home and get some rest, although she stubbornly denied otherwise.

Ugh. If I wanted to grab Stella, I'd have to venture back into the lion's den again. Where Raelyn was. Our paths were really crossing today. Eh, so be it. I wasn't afraid of her.

And speaking of Raelyn, just as I was walking down the hall, she suddenly came charging through, looking heated as hell. She was going so fast, Stella, Sugar, and Mavis couldn't even keep up with her.

I paused. Something wasn't right. "Raelyn—?"

"Get out of my way!" shouted Raelyn, pushing me aside. She walked past me and stopped at the bathroom, kicking and pounding on it.

Oh fuck. Oh _fuck._ Raelyn knew about Melanie and Reese. That was fast.

Screaming, Raelyn tried the doorknob but it wouldn't budge. Hmm. Looked like Melanie and Reese had taken my advice and actually locked the door. A good thing to or else Raelyn would be all over them right now.

Sugar, Mavis, and Stella appeared beside me, all of us choosing to keep our distance. You didn't mess with a bitch when she was mad. Especially if that bitch happened to be Raelyn. "What happened?" I asked, deciding to play dumb.

"Reese! REESE!" Raelyn was screaming as she pounded on the door.

Man, this was fucking pathetic. Raelyn was shouting and screaming like Reese was in there suffocating or something. At this point, others were joining us in the hall, standing back as they watched Raelyn make a fool of herself again. I didn't blame this. This shit was entertaining.

"Reese! Reese, can you hear me?! Reese, answer me," cried out Raelyn. She whirled around to face the crowd. "Someone kick this door down _now_!"

Nobody moved. "Isn't this somebody else's house?" someone asked.

"Dude, Raelyn." A drunk Shane Albright came swaggering in, laughing like an idiot. "Relax. Let Reese have some fun. This is a party for Christ's sake."

" _Shut the fuck up_!" Raelyn snapped at him.

Suddenly, something on the other side of the bathroom door clicked and the doorknob rattled. Oh boy. They were coming out….

Everyone took a step back as the door swung open. Reese walked out first, grinning goofily. Dumbass. Raelyn was all over him in seconds. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

I felt anger bubbling inside me. Raelyn was treating Reese like he was a victim of some kind of crime, when he _willingly_ chose to hook up with Melanie. And speaking of Melanie, the girl emerged from the bathroom next. She looked indifferent, except her hair was a little messed up. Without giving Raelyn or Reese a second glance, she started down the hall, going on with her business.

Unfortunately, Raelyn wasn't letting her go so easily. "You fucking _slut_!" she yelled at Melanie. Melanie just kept on walking.

Raelyn stormed off after her. I gritted my teeth. Oh _hell no._ I wasn't having this. Clenching my fists at my side, I followed behind Raelyn as she followed Melanie into the living room.

"What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?" she shouted at Melanie, "you're _such a bitch_! This isn't even your fucking apartment! Where the hell's your decency?! You've disrespected me _and_ Reese too many times already and I'm sick of it! Just get the _fuck out."_

Melanie didn't say anything. She just turned around and started for the front door.

"Wait!" I shouted at her, pushing my way through the crowd. Melanie might've ignored Raelyn but she didn't ignore me. She stopped dead in her tracks and slowly turned around. Her eyes landed on me.

"You aren't going _any-damn-where,_ " I told her. I whirled around to stare at Raelyn. "You, my friend, are _ **the**_ _bigges_ t asshole I've ever exchanged words with!" I snapped at her, pointing an accusing finger at her. " _And_ the stupidest."

That's when everything went deadly silent. The guests in the crowd stopped whispering among each other. Some people stopped drinking. All eyes were on us. I already knew what they were thinking. No one in their right mind would _dare_ stand up to Raelyn like that. And the ones who had weren't even spoken of because Raelyn had made their lives in a living hell. So for me to confront the bitch at her own party, they knew there was about to be some shit. That's why a few were already taking out their cell phones to film the brewing fight. Eh. Let 'em. I didn't give a damn. I didn't even care that my own sister Bailey was watching, her eyes wide with all kinds of emoticons. What I was about to say needed to be said.

Raelyn hissed at me. "Just what I would expect from a _rat_ like you, Acadia. This is about principle—"

"No, you shut the fuck up!" I barked at her, "don't even try me like that. You know _damn well_ this ain't about 'principle'. It's about nothing but _jealousy_ and you _know it_."

Raelyn let out a laugh. " _Me?_ Jealous of a piece-of-trash slut like _Melanie_? Open your eyes, bitch. And honestly, I can't believe you'd defend her. I always knew you were low but not _this low._ But then again, I always knew you weren't all the shit you made yourself out to be."

My head was spinning. I wanted to knock this girl's teeth right out of her mouth. "Quit lying to yourself. _Lots_ of people have hooked in the past hour alone, but you haven't flipped your shit about any of them! But all of a sudden when _Reese_ gets into a girl's pants, you wanna go ballistic. "In fact—Shane! Didn't I see you in one of the bedrooms with a junior a few minutes ago?"

"Damn straight." Shane high-fived his jock buddies. Sugar's face went super red.

"What about him, Raelyn? Aren't you gonna kick his ass out for 'being indecent'?" I growled, putting my hands on my hips.

Raelyn laughed coldly. "I can't believe this right now! You're _actually_ trying to turn this around on me? If anything, _you're_ the dumb bitch, Acadia Jones."

"No, it's _you!_ Here you are, blaming _only_ Melanie, when _Reese_ is just as 'guilty' as her! It takes _two_ to tango, remember Raelyn? Wait, of course you know that because that's the whole reason you're jealous. Jealous that Melanie was Reese's dance partner instead of you!"

I knew I tripped up her ass right then and there. Raelyn's face went red with embarrassment and anger. She was shaking. I got her ass good. "You-you're both nothing more than troublemakers!" she managed to stammer, "all you do is create drama for _everyone_!"

"Nah, just you, baby. And it's not like I'm bitching for no reason. I'm just defending myself because I'm not afraid of you or your little minions," I yawned. "Anything else you wanna say?"

Raelyn was about to ready to fight me. Like, _fist_ fight me. But still, I wasn't afraid of her ass. I was a superspy, remember? I've battled _far worse_ than a pissy teen in high heels.

Raelyn was about to throw herself at me, but Reese grabbed her shoulders and yanked her back. "Let me at her! Let me at her!" Raelyn was screaming.

"Ray, calm down. We don't need her," said Reese gently, resting her down. "She's not worth your time. She's just being a bitch."

What the—?! "Well, guess what, honey? You _invited_ this 'bitch', remember?" I snapped.

"Yeah, and it was a _mistake_." Reese put so much emphasis on _mistake,_ he didn't sound right.

Raelyn, suddenly satisfied, just smirked and shook her head if I was completely useless. "You're right, you're right. She's not wroth our time. But I couldn't help but snap at you. I know you were just trying to be friendly with her and look how she disrespected you in return. That's just not right."

"The fuck? How did I disrespect him?" I scowled, taking a step closer. "If anything, _you_ disrespected him, Raelyn."

"Shut up, Jones!" Reese suddenly barked at me. "Just get out. You're not welcomed here anymore." He was giving me his tough guy look. Raelyn was smirking at me. Melanie was observing me. All of Raelyn's guests were watching me. If I tried to retaliate, things would get ugly. That's what Raelyn wanted. To make me look bad.

"Man, _screw_ you guys," I sneered, flashing Raelyn two middle fingers. "C'mon, Bailey, we're getting the fuck out of here." All eyes seemed to land on Bailey as she appeared out of the crowd with her head down. If she was ashamed, that was her problem. I spoke the truth and only the truth.

Melanie left with us and there was silence until we reached the lobby. "Hey, do you guys need a ride home?" Melanie asked me, "it's too late to walk out in the dark."

And so we ended up riding with Melanie in her Toyota. And contrary to everyone's (specifically Raelyn's) belief, her car didn't smell like sex. It smelt lemony fresh.

After about five minutes of silence, Melanie finally spoke. "Look, Acadia, I know we don't know each other that well but I just wanted to thank you for sticking up for me."

"No problem. Raelyn's just a bitch. She bullies everyone she sees as a threat." I glanced out of the window. I knew all too well this wasn't over, though.

"Yes, I do hook up with different guys, but that's none of Raelyn's concern. And she never acted like it was until Reese came along. He asked _me_ to get with him in the bathroom." Melanie's voice was so casual as she kept her eyes on the road. "And yes, I'm not innocent because I willingly accepted, but I just…I just hate how he didn't stick up for me. How he let Raelyn jump on me like that."

"What do you expect from Reese O'Grady? Both he and Raelyn are retarded," I snorted.

"I hear ya. And I never thought anyone would speak out against them." Melanie turned down our street. "Hey, you should feel lucky to have such a badass sister," she called over her shoulder at Bailey.

I smirked to myself. Badass, huh? If only they knew.


	5. Would You Rather?

**Notice: This is a re-write. I'm rewriting chapters 5-8 because, ya know. They're shit. I don't want shit. Nobody wants shit. If you do, check yourself into a mental hospital stat.**

 **I think I'll leave the reviews from the last version. Too lazy to delete them.**

* * *

Thanks to Raelyn's party, half of the school had showed up this morning _completely_ hung-over. Not that I gave a shit. Everyone had been so busy groaning and holding their heads, no one bothered messing with me. Not that they'd try, even _if_ sober. Since I had been the one to stand against the main bitch last night, everyone else had taken the liberty of staying far away from me. Whether they were actually scared of me or Raelyn's wrath, I didn't know. But again, I didn't give a shit.

At least dumbass Reese wasn't following me around anymore. He'd taken back to his leash, following Raelyn around like the dog he was. And speaking of Raelyn, the shank seemed more than pleased that everyone (specifically Reese) was giving me the cold shoulder. She basically bullied me every chance she got, but, as I said earlier, I didn't give a shit. Drawing the Mona Lisa (or at least attempting to. I couldn't' draw worth a damn) on my stomach with my mom's lipstick _blindfolded_ was an easier _and_ a better use of time than giving Raelyn even a millisecond of my time. _But,_ one of these days, I _was_ gonna kick her ass. Kick it so hard her offspring and _their_ offspring would have aching asses (it'd be like one of those freak-ass generic traits. In the future when Raelyn's an old-ass lady, her great-granddaughter will be all like, _"Grandma, my butt won't stop hurting."_ And then raspy witch-voiced Raelyn would be like, _"That's completely normal, my dear. Everyone in the family is born with a sore rear-end.")_

Ugh, and while we were discussing Raelyn—

Raelyn and her friends were gathering at her locker while I headed for my own. Raelyn, who was obviously planning to harass me again, paused in the middle of her conversation and sniffed the air. "Ugh. Do you guys smell that?" She pretended to gag, sticking out her tongue in disgust. "It smells like dog shit." As soon as I opened my locker, Raelyn whirled around and wrinkled her nose at me. " _Oh. That_ makes sense."

Man, _damn_ the proximity of our lockers. I scowled at her, stuffing my shit into my locker. "Will you ever learn to back the fuck off?" I snapped at her, slamming the door shut.

"Will you ever learn to brush your teeth so we won't have to smell your shitty-ass breath?" countered Raelyn with a rude laugh.

Before we could get into another round of Raelyn versus Acadia, Aisha came to my rescue. "Is there a problem here?" she asked coolly and calmly, suddenly appearing at my side.

At the sight of Aisha, Raelyn just hissed. "Whatever," she said, turning her back to us and going back to her conversation with her friends. That was the awesome thing about Aisha. She was the tough girl around here. If you were smart, you'd get the hell out of her way or else there'd be legit consequences. Heck, you knew it was serious if even _Raelyn_ tried to steer clear of her.

I didn't say anything until me and Aisha had put some distance between us and Raelyn's group. "Thanks," I muttered, stuffing my hands into my pockets as we walked through the halls.

I swore, the next world-changing invention needed to be a device that detected abnormal levels of irrelevance and annoyingness, aka the bitch radar. I'd be the first in line to buy one. Then, anytime Raelyn was in the area, I could get to safer ground, not because I was scared but because there was only so much I could take before I pulled her hair out. The bitch radar would change the lives of many. People everywhere would be able to avoid drama, hate, and everything else that came with the presence of a bitch. And then later on, the App Store would make a downloadable application so you could avoid bitches all from the convenience of your smartphone.

But then again, maybe such an invention wouldn't be a good thing. For one, _half_ of the people detected by the app would sue for being labeled as such an offensive name (no matter how true it may be) and then there was the fact there were too many bitches in the world. The radar would burn the fuck out from sensing the people in my apartment building alone, so it would definitely _explode_ if used at school. Detecting Raelyn alone would do the trick, no less her pimped-up posse. Besides, if we could tell who in our area was a total bitch, I wouldn't go outside half of the time. A new generation of shut-ins would emerge, and who knew _what_ kind of trouble that would bring.

But still, though. It wouldn't hurt if one or two people had such a miraculous innovation. Maybe I could pass the idea on to the scientists at ALFEA….

* * *

Stella's place had been _the_ hangout for as long as I could remember. Since her dad was loaded _and_ single, he was rarely home so we always took advantage of the situation and crashed with Stella every now and then. We had our own little school tradition. The first weekend of the new school term, we always gathered together in her living room and played a game of Would You Rather. Her place had always been the most ideal because there were never any adults there (not counting Marcus), so we could ask the grossest, dirtiest questions we could think of without getting lectured. Back when I was living in Georgia, I used to play with them over the phone, but that was never fun.

And since this was our last year of high school, this would be our last year of honoring our customs before we were all shipped off to college. Thus, like every year, we were assembled in Stella's luxurious living room, sipping off wine (grape juice for Flora!) and enjoying ourselves.

And also like every year, there was an argument about who went first. Spoiled Stella always insisted she should go first since we were in her home, but Flora also wanted the first turn since she was always last. Aisha wanted to have a little arm-wrestling tournament to decide who went, but we all disagreed since Aisha was the strongest and could possibly break a few finger bones.

In the end, Tecna put our names in an online randomizer and the website put her name first and Stella's last. Stella had started to protest and said we randomize our names again, so we had to threaten her to take it or leave it. We finally ended up playing the actual game thirty minutes behind schedule.

"Would you rather sweat mayonnaise or poop grapefruits?" Tecna asked Aisha, setting her laptop aside. We'd made a compact to put away all distractions so we could enjoy our final, epic game.

"Sweat mayo, for sure. Pooping grapefruit sounds painful."

"Not to mention it'd probably take long as fuck to squeeze one out of your ass crack," I piped up, "and don't let you be in a public restroom when it finally splashes into the toilet. Wait, I don't even think a turd that size would even flush down."

"Musa, would you rather kiss your English teacher in front of everyone or kiss the toilet in front of everyone?" asked Aisha.

Musa thought about it for a moment. "I think I'd kiss my English teacher. On the cheek, of course. The kiss wouldn't have to be romantic—just appreciative. Besides, no one would even think of kissing me if they knew I made out with a toilet. I'd have a potty mouth, literally. Anyway, Bloom, would you rather walk around with honey mustard in your sneakers or apples stuffed in your bra?"

"Honey mustard in my sneakers. The apple thing is just ridiculous," insisted Bloom, rolling her eyes. "It'd make me look uneven and seriously desperate for bigger chest. Your turn, Acadia. Would you rather be the smartest moron or the dumbest genius?"

"Isn't that the same thing?" I arched an eyebrow. "But I'd go with the dumbest genius. At least I wouldn't technically be a moron." I gave Flora an evil grin. "You next, Flores. Would you rather get it off with your boyfriend in a bathroom stall at McDonald's or at the back of our school in the middle of the day?"

As I expected, Flora turned bright red. I loved tormenting her with dirty questions. That was the only reason I played this game. "Um…er…at the back of our school," she stammered, blushing deeply. "Though they're both disgusting, small kids use the bathroom at McDonald's." she shuddered. "Stella, would you rather watch your crush date your best friend or your worst enemy?"

"My worst enemy, of course," scoffed Stella, "then I wouldn't feel bad about it when I get revenge. Tecna, would you rather be a cow or a chicken?"

"Though I wouldn't want to be _any_ animal, being a cow is more ideal, preferably in India. The cow is sacred there, so no one would turn me into a hamburger. Aisha, would you rather be an athlete on a poor salary or be a wealthy world renown professional in a field you didn't care about?"

"Easy. I'd rather be an athlete."

"Of course. You're already a rich girl, so your salary wouldn't really matter anyway," I pointed out.

"Musa, would you rather live in a world without music or us?" challenged Aisha, cracking a small grin.

"That's a no-brainer. A world without you guys," answered Musa. "I'd probably just make other best friends. The world's full of options."

All of our mouths dropped open. "Gee, thanks," said Stella sarcastically, filing her nails furiously. "That makes me feel great about myself."

Musa shrugged as if saying _sorry-not-sorry_. "A world without music would be dull and sad. Music is food for the soul. Without it, the world would be quiet and dreary, don't you think?"

"Absolutely," nodded Flora.

"I guess," murmured Stella. I could relate to some extent. I couldn't image a world where I couldn't blast Evanescence's "Bring Me to Life" every morning.

"Unless it's rap music," I spoke up, "actually, the world would kind of be a better place without rap. There'd be less folk on drugs and shit." Rap was fucking garbage. Rap back in the day used to be meaningful, but now everyone was just rapping about blowing someone's brains out with a gun, overdosing on drugs to a danger degree, and screwing other guys' ladies.

"Bloom, would you rather drink things through your ear or nose?"

"My ear. Otherwise, my nose would be burning like crazy. And would that mean I'd have to breathe through my ear? Wait, I don't even want to think about it. Acadia, would you rather lose your ability to taste or feel sensations through touch?"

"Hmm. I don't know, actually," I admitted, "if I couldn't feel anything, would that mean I wouldn't be able to feel good during you-know-what? I mean, that's really not a big deal because I heard a lot of girls don't get pleasure during sex, but I'd at least want to enjoy myself with my boyfriend. But on the other hand, I wouldn't be able to taste my brother's famous waffles or chocolate cake."

"Or black-cherry rum," pointed out Stella with a few giggles.

 _Hell no._ "Touch it is then," I announced, "I _need_ my black-berry rum. That's my favorite kind." A lot of people would think me a freak for choosing taste over sex, but I really liked me some fruity rum. But anyway, it was time to hit up Flora again! "Flora, would you rather striptease on a rooftop or watch _one_ five-minute porno in the secrecy of your room?"

"You have a dirty mind," said Flora in a quiet deadpan. "No way I'd take off my clothes publicly for everyone, including _children,_ to see—" Flora was really looking out for the kiddies. "—but I also wouldn't want to watch adult films, either."

"C'mon, Flora. You know that isn't how the game works," teased Stella in singsong.

"Just say you'd watch porn," I yawned, stretching out my legs. "You're acting like it would brainwash you into becoming a porn star or sex addict. You probably wouldn't even be excited by it."

Flora blushed hard, not meeting our eyes. "Oh-okay. I-I'd watch the adult movies." She seemed ashamed to say so. "Stella, would you rather your food only look good or taste good?"

"Taste good, _obviously_ ," replied Stella, her voice thick with a resounding _duh._ "How else would I enjoy French fries? Or any other kind of French food?"

"Wait, hold on. So as long as it tasted good, you'd eat something that looks like pig slop?" I creased my forehead in confusion. "Or even dog puke?"

Stella snorted. "I don't care if it tasted like gold, sparkles, rainbows, and every cent in the world. I don't go near anything like relatively reminds me of even oatmeal, much less puke." She gagged, probably more disgusted at the thought of oatmeal than vomit. "Don't even get me started. Tecna, would you rather live without electricity or science-fiction films for a year?"

"Sci-fi. Giving up the Internet isn't worth a few _Star Wars_ and _Jurassic Park_ movies," insisted Tecna, wrinkling her nose. "All I would have to do is read the comics. So giving up my other digital freedoms would be a waste. Aisha, would you rather walk on water or fly?" That got me thinking about Basshunter. Ah, the nostalgia.

"Walk on water. Then I'd be able to jog to the Bahamas without bothering with a boat. Musa, would you rather be friends with Superman or Batman?"

Musa let out a laugh. "Batman. He's way cooler and mysterious. He doesn't have superpowers, but I beat he could defeat Superman. I mean, Superman's cool too but it seems every villain conveniently has a huge chunk of kryptonite. Batman has no weakness, except, ya know. Fire, drowning, and stuff. Bloom, would you rather live in a five-star prison or the poorest country in the world?"

I stood up. "Hold the hell up. What's a five-star _prison_? I've never heard of one."

"You know, one of those pay-to-stay prisons. The ones with nice bathrooms and exercise rooms. The ones where you get real food instead of tasteless masses of boiled, undistinguishable matter. I think they have them in Austria."

"I think I'd go with the five-star prison. That's basically the same thing as a hotel, right? Except for staying checked in for a few days, I'd be checked in for a few years at the least." Bloom giggled. "Acadia, would you rather be completely alone for 5 years or constantly be surrounded by people and never be alone for 5 years?"

"Easy as pie. I'd rather stay alone for five years. I'd go insane if I had people like Stella buzzing in my ear all day. Plus, I could stay in some really nice cabin in the mountain somewhere. You can't beat mountain views, people. _Flora!_ " Flora stared at me with pleading eyes. Like she was begging me not to ask another inappropriate question. Unfortunately for her, it was my plan to torture her all evening. "Would you rather flash your boobs at—" Flora groaned. "—a librarian or a police officer?"

Flora shot me a hard look. "A librarian." She looked down at her lap, ashamed. "A police officer could arrest me for public indecency and that would stay on my record forever. Plus, my parents would be really disappointed in me."

"Yeah, but the librarian could ban you from the library and _then_ call the police afterward," I said, "you'd still be screwed."

"Stella, would you rather be in a real-life version of _The Walking Dead_ or a real-life version of _Game of Thrones_?" asked Flora, avoiding the topic.

Stella made a "pffft" sound. " _Game of Thrones, obviously._ I wouldn't want to spend the rest of my life weed-whacking zombies in the brains. The blood would ruin my outfit for sure. Plus, there wouldn't really be any cute boys for me to flirt with. Tecna, would you rather have Cheeto dust on your fingers for a year or have to walk around with wet socks for a year?"

"'Cheeto dust?' You mean the seasoning that's left on your fingers?" asked Tecna, somewhat confused. "That's not dust. It's just—"

"Just answer the question!"

"I guess I'd walk around with wet socks. The Cheeto 'dust' thing is just gross. That means my fingers would leave yellow tracks on everything I touch. That's way worse than wet socks. No one would even know they're wet unless they touched my feet specifically. Aisha, would you rather take a punch from John Cena or swallow a small bag of marbles?"

Aisha snorted. "Take a punch from John Cena. That sounds way cooler than swallowing marbles and risking choking to death."

"Yeah, but what if John Cena put you in a coma?" asked Flora thoughtfully, "and you never wake up?"

"That's still better than choking to death on marbles. At least at my funeral, my family won't be lamenting me because I did something stupid like swallowing non-edible objects. Musa, would you rather speak every language fluently, or play every instrument beautifully?"

Musa's mouth set in a beautiful smile. "Play every instrument beautifully. Music is like a language, one that everyone on Earth can understand. Music brings people together and heals hearts and broken spirits. It's uplifting and inspiring. And I already know fourteen different languages anyway, so I'm pretty set. Bloom, would you rather get stuck in an elevator with the most annoying person you know or get stuck in a janitor's closet alone?"

"I'd rather be trapped in the elevator. It may be with an annoying person, but at least I'd have someone to talk to. Plus, janitor closets smell like Teen Spirit for some reason. Acadia, would you rather have a Great Dane-sized house cat or a Great Dane the size of a standard pickup truck?"

"I'd take the big-ass Great Dane. A cat the size of a Great Dane is basically a tiger or a lion. Their hairballs would probably be the size of a cantaloupe. And heaven help the furniture. All the pieces would be ripped to shreds in a matter of a few claw swipes. Ugh, don't even get me started. If that thing peed, my floors would be looking like the Yellow River. Besides, Great Danes are naturally big, so it wouldn't be _that_ weird that I'd own a mini Clifford the Big Red Dog. I bet I'd break some records with a dog that big. Flora, you next, babe."

Flora gulped.

"Okay, I'll go easier on you this one," I decided to her relief, "would you rather lick someone's foot or someone's belly button?"

"I thought you said you were gonna go easy on me!" cried out Flora.

"I am!"

Flora started to sweat. "I'd lick someone's belly button. Licking someone's foot sounds… _kinky_." She said _kinky_ in a near whisper. "Stella, would you rather—"

All of a sudden, our Winx Watchers started to beep and glow simultaneously. "Looks like we're going to have to cut this game short. The director's summoning us to ALFEA," said Bloom, rising to her feet.

Stella let out a whine. "But it was my turn!"

"We can finish playing when we get back. This is probably important," said Aisha, swiping the keys to her SUV off the coffee table. "Let's move."

We had to literally _drag_ Stella down to Aisha's SUV in the parking garage below. Once we strapped her in her seat and threatened to chuck her phone out of the window if she didn't shut up, it didn't take long for us to get to ALFEA'S underground HQ. There, Director Faragonda and Professor Palladium were already waiting for us. "Girls. I'm glad you could make it." The director gave a small smile as the other agents click-clacked on the computers behind her.

"Ma'am? What's going on?" asked Bloom gravely. "Wait, is that about…?"

Ms. Faragonda nodded. "Indeed. Unfortunately, Lewis hasn't been found but the body found in his hotel suite has been identified. Mary Jane Boliden. She was only nineteen years old. Honestly, we've never heard of her until now. She had a clean record and history. No one, not even her parents, knew what she was doing at Lewis's hotel.

Guilt tugged at my heart as the many horrific possibilities came to my mind. I wonder if she had been innocent. There was nowhere anyone with an innocent name like Mary Jane could be a convicted murderer or something. But then again, the leader behind all the art thefts in England this summer was named Fawn, so you really couldn't judge by the name.

"What about the fingerprints we found on the knife that was used to kill her?" asked Flora.

"The results just came in this morning," replied Palladium.

Two enlarged images of fingerprints appeared side-by-side on the wide middle screen on the wall. "To the left are the fingerprints scanned from the murder weapon in Lewis's hotel room," informed Palladium gravely, "beside it is Lewis's fingerprints."

I felt myself frowning immediately. When compared next to each other, you could instantly see the two sets of fingerprints didn't match up. The one on the left had curvier ridges than the one on the right. And since the two didn't match, that meant—

"Lewis isn't the murderer," said Bloom thinly, pressing her lips together.

"So someone else _besides_ the victim and Lewis was inside the suite." Aisha frowned deeply. "So he was involved with another party, maybe?"

"And what if that girl had been involved with Lewis?" suggested Bloom, adding on to Aisha's theory. "Maybe this second party was after them both. They clearly got rid of one of their targets, but another one, Lewis, is still alive. Maybe that's why he suddenly disappeared? Because he's on the run?"

"Unfortunately, we cannot make any assumptions." Director Faragonda adjusted her glasses, her serious eyes behind them grave. "Neither our team nor the police have found any other evidence that could possibly give us a lead on what happened."

There was a moment of silence. It was very rare the government was kept in the dark about _anything._ This case had proven itself to be very odd and mysterious indeed. It was very seldom we had to work with situations like this.

"Director! Director Faragonda!" ALFEA's assistant director and Head of Communications and Security, Ms. Griselda, rushed into the control room. She was an older brunette with short sharp hair and sharp glasses to match. She'd been the director's most-trusted advisor and colleague for over twenty years and was _very good_ at what she did, even if she _did_ look like an old-school nanny.

"What's your report?" asked Director Faragonda expectantly and calmly, clasping her hands behind her back.

"According to our sources, we think we can find a lead on Mr. Lewis," informed Ms. Griselda, gesturing for one of the agents at the monitors to pull up her findings. We all watched as a blurry photo of a man replaced the images of the fingerprints onscreen.

"Enhance image," directed Ms. Griselda, adjusting her glasses.

Within a few seconds, the picture was in high-definition. It wasn't of anything odd or suspicious. Well, at least to the normal eye.

"This is Allen Atkinson," reported Ms. Griselda as the picture finished clarifying. The image onscreen was of a regular guy entering a regular building. "He has previously been acquainted with the suspect who recently disappeared, Daniel E. Lewis. Over the past ten years there have been three cases in which Mr. Atkinson was proven to have aided Mr. Lewis in uncovering several government secrets and breeching several different databases. After the third incident, Mr. Atkinson moved across country to Seattle, where he conducted a fairly quiet life as a lawyer."

Stella yawned as if saying _been there, done that._ A lot of convicted criminals claimed to leave their old, illegal lives behind. But a little more than seventy percent of them ended up in a jail cell within the next year.

Director Faragonda appeared deep in thought. "The fact that he's finally shown himself in this city again _after_ his ex-colleague disappeared is quite unusual," she said after a moment, "do you think the two occurrences are connected in some way?"

"Stella shrugged. "Maybe he's just taking a vacation."

Ms. Griselda shook her head. "We don't know. But Mr. Atkinson _is_ offering to sell important information to us. He wouldn't leave any other details apart from the location he wants to meet up."

"This could be a setup," said Musa shortly.

"Indeed." The director nodded. "That's why I'm sending you girls with this mission. We do not know Atkinson's game, but if he truly does have valuable information, it's crucial we obtain it before another organization like Clod Tower—or our newest enemy—does."

* * *

The Winxmobile screeched to a stop in front of an old and abandoned warehouse. "Make sure the money doesn't get jacked this time," said Aisha sarcastically, keeping the engine running as Bloom and I stepped out onto the gravel.

"Ha ha, very funny," I smirked, handing Bloom our missile-proof case of money.

"Stay in the area," directed Bloom, "we'll call you if we need backup."

"Roger that."

The two of us watched as the Winxmobile took off down the street."Let's get inside," said Bloom with a sigh. We pushed open the two double doors and stepped into the warehouse. The place was completely empty except for a few boxes along the wall and a random table in the middle of the floor. A dramatic light shone down on it, bathing a man with shoulder-length blond hair, stubble, and eyes greener than my mom when she used to have morning sickness during her pregnancy with my littlest sister.

There was no one else in sight, but someone else was definitely watching us from somewhere; I could feel their gaze on my neck. Probably some of Atkinson's reinforcements watching us from a far just in case we tried something.

"Mr. Allen Atkinson?" said Bloom, sitting down in the empty chair. This felt like the scene with Mikhailov all over again (minus the beefy, blocky henchmen, shady Russian crime lord, and rifles).

"Hmmmm?" He lolled his head to the side.

"We were sent from ALFEA to gain— _buy_ intel from you," continued Bloom, lifting the briefcase up onto the table.

"Of course. Say, you weren't followed, were you? This information is top secret." Atkinson looked around dramatically. Oh boy. This guy was a character alright.

"I assure you, we weren't followed," affirmed Bloom. There was a split moment of hesitation on her part. "Were you…?" she asked awkwardly. Oh yeah, Bloom. Way to be professional.

"Eh, probably. " Atkinson gave a shrug. "People always follow me. The guy from the airport, that shady businessman—ooh, let's not forget that elderly woman from the convenience store—that lady from the drycleaners, that _other_ shady businessman."

What the hell? "Wait, hold on. Why are your _drycleaners_ stalking you?" I asked, looking at him crazily. I knew Bloom was supposed to be the one doing the talking, but the rules changed when we found out our guy had his whole damn time on his case.

"Dunno. I'm a really popular guy back home and not in a good way, I'll tell you that," chuckled Atkinson, "but anyway, let's get back to the serious matters, shall we?"

Bloom nodded. "Is this about Lewis's disappearance? We were told the two of you literally used to be partners in crime."

A toothy grin stretched across Atkinson's face at the memories. "Ah, those were the days. We made a swell team. There was no one I couldn't manipulate and nothing he couldn't infiltrate." His grin was replaced by a somewhat grave expression. "It's a shame he decided to disappear without a trace, though. And right when I was coming to pay him a visit."

Bloom looked alerted. "Wait, so you mean you _didn't_ come here because he was kidnapped?" I snorted. Highly unlikely.

However, Atkinson shook his head. "Nope. It was a total coincidence he happened to go missing at the same time his old colleague decided to reunite with him after all these years. It's probably a good thing. There's a sixty-percent chance he was gonna shoot my brains out anyway." He was grinning (yeah, because the thought of getting shot dead in the head was _so_ pleasing). "The two of us never 'officially' terminated our business when I walked away, so I _know_ he spied on me for at least a year or two. He had guys everywhere, even on the other side of the country. He's a scary guy. And I wouldn't say 'kidnapped'. See, Lewis didn't work like that. You couldn't just capture the man like that. Sure, he might've had a few _dozen_ different crime organizations and the FBI going after him every now and then—okay, all the time—but there was no trick that could trip him up."

I recalled how the Trix had said they were after Lewis. They couldn't find him. And if Cloud Tower couldn't, I doubted anyone could.

"So, you're saying he _wasn't_ kidnapped? Then do you think there's a possibility he's hiding from someone?" questioned Bloom seriously. Eh, if I knew Cloud Tower, an organization of cold-blooded, ruthless she-assassins, was after me, I'd make like my mom's first baby daddy (please, don't even ask) and get out of town too.

"Lewis has never been a coward. For as long as I can remember, there wasn't even one time he was intimidated by someone else. The guy's always been a complicated man. He's got more tricks up his sleeve than the US government. That's how he's always managed to out-smart then." He clapped his hands together, the sound echoing through the warehouse. " _Anyway,_ the information I have isn't about him. It's about something else I picked up on the streets."

He stopped talking, staring at Bloom expectantly. Bloom stared back. She blinked. He blinked back. And as if giving Bloom a hint, he nudged his box gently. That's when I noticed the slot in the top of it.

" _Oh,"_ said Bloom and me in realization. Bloom unlocked the briefcase, took out a few bills, and stuffed them through the opening. And just like that, Atkinson picked up where he stopped. "The Big Apple's full of rich folk. I heard that one family in particular, the Takashimas, is back in town."

Bloom and I stared at him blankly. "Wait, you've never heard of the Takashimas? The ambitious family behind Takashima Tech?"

I creased my forehead as if asking _what the fuck are you talking about_?

" _You know._ The guys who have their logo slapped on the back of every DVD player, printer, camera, _and_ vending machine in Tokyo? The proud sponsor of _Shuga!_ the trending Asian soda that's sweeping the nation with its sugary, sour-y goodness? Net worth of about half a million dollars, approximately 5,792,500,000 yen?"

Bloom and I shook her head.

Atkinson tsked, easing back into his chair. "ALFEA should let their agents travel more. But anyway, the head of the Takashima clan and his daughter, Angelica, have returned to New York City. Miss Takashima is hosting a party at her father's American headquarters, Crystal Towers, in honor of her father's company's recent success, which, if you ask me, is primarily because of their skyrocketing sale of _Shuga!_ The world rejoices at the invention of a brand new soft drink. Gotta have that sugar in the bloodstream. And considering the average can has close to eighty grams of sugar in its standard twelve ounces, it's no wonder its sales have been topping the charts for three months now."

"How is this critical information?" I asked dully. Sorry, but we didn't have time listening to a middle-aged man enthuse about some Asian soda that will only increase America's obesity and diabetes statistics.

Atkinson gave us a coy smile, tapping on his money box. Bloom jammed a few more bills into it. "So according to what I've heard from reliable sources, someone—I don't know who exactly—is planning to _kidnap_ Angelica at the party. I have no idea what they intend to do with her. Most likely, they're gonna hold her hostage. Considering her dad's a multi-millionaire, maybe even going on to billionaire in a few years, he can afford to fork over a few million." He stared at us in disbelief. "Are you _sure_ you've never heard of the Takashimas? I mean, Angelica's a super-popular supermodel. She's been on the cover of all the Japanese magazines."

I raised an eyebrow. "Did you just admit that you have a subscription to Japanese fashion magazines."

Atkinson winced. "You got me there. But I'm sure you know I live in Seattle, which has a relatively large Asian population. I'd naturally know more about the culture."

Bloom processed this information (about the kidnapping conspiracy, not the soda). This was serious news. If someone was to abduct an almost-billionaire's kid—wait, who'd even have the resources to pull that off? With all that tight security rich people tended to have, there was no way a random street gang could even get past level one.

"Dumbass, this isn't any info you heard on the street," I snapped, "basic gangsters don't get involved in stuff _this_ big. Besides, conspiracies plans this huge aren't just passed around like a hot potato, otherwise the scheme would most likely be foiled by the authorities or some other crime gang. Who did you _really_ hear it from?"

Atkinson pretended to pout. "Aww, you got me. So apparently, some of my _other_ old colleagues have also been keeping tabs on me so they found out I was on my way back to the city. Turns out whoever's planning to kidnap Angelica is paying skilled outsiders like my boys to help out with the 'job'. The guys got the wrong idea and thought I came back to the city to get in on the action, so they told me everything. Naturally, I played along so I could get all the info I needed to turn around and sell it to the highest bidder." He smiled faintly. "What can I say? Apparently, I didn't shake _all_ of my bad habits. Once a conman, always a conman."

"Highest bidder? Yeah, right. More like the _safest_ ," I scoffed, "ALFEA's one of the only organizations who won't hunt your ass down if something goes wrong. And you and I _both_ know you don't wanna get caught up with people like Cloud Tower. The director will probably hang your disembodied head up on her wall. And _not_ the one with her trophies."

Atkinson snapped his fingers. "Right again. You fairies don't miss a beat."

"Is that all you know?" asked Bloom gravely, "about the conspiracy?"

Atkinson started tapping his index fingers together in a rapid motion. "Hmmm. That depends. How much you got?"

Bloom generously jammed some more bills into the money box. Atkinson didn't move. Bloom stuffed some more bills into the box. Atkinson flinched. Bloom added a little more. "C'mon, bro. Don't be greedy," I deadpanned.

"Okay, okay! You're right! Sometimes, you just gotta press your luck. But anyway, there _is_ one little other thing I know. Back in the day, Lewis and Mr. Takashima had a… _confidential_ deal that went sour. Takashima thought he got away with it, but Lewis swore to have his revenge. It's been about ten years since then, but Lewis was never one to let go of the past. He _still_ hasn't forgiven me for crashing that Volvo during the England job in '89. A family of ducks was crossing the street! What was I supposed to do? So what the enemy salvaged the wreckage and stole our precious package that we could've sold for a few _million._ You don't run over ducks, man. That's like _asking_ Mother Nature to give you a degree-one curse."

"Wait, so are you suggesting Lewis is possibly behind this?" Bloom leaned in a little closer.

"Eh, it's possible. I wouldn't put anything past the guy." Atkinson waved away Bloom's question. "I don't know who's pulling the strings here. But whoever's behind this is either stupid or resourceful as hell."

I thought about the black shirts who'd killed Mikhailov and tried to do the same to Bloom. _They_ were resourceful enough.

"When's the party?" was Bloom's next question.

Atkinson yawned sleepily. "Tomorrow night."

" _Tomorrow night?"_ repeated Bloom and I in surprised unison.

Atkinson threw his hands up innocently. "Hey, don't look at me! I just got here! I didn't know anything about this until this morning! And don't you watch the news? Don't you read the blogs or the magazines? Everyone's been talking about this celebrity party for a good month now. Everyone on Twitter's been debating if Kim Kardashian should wear a cocktail or bandage dress."

"We don't watch TMZ," I said bluntly, "and I don't know how to use Twitter."

Bloom closed the briefcase and rose to her feet. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Atkinson."

"Yeah, as much as we'd love to stay and chat about Japanese soda and social media, we have to report back to our director," I added, following Bloom to the exit.

"Okay, let's do this again anytime. I'm not going anywhere, unfortunately…"

Bloom and I didn't say anything as the Winxmobile pulled up. Our minds were racing. We'd foiled many kidnapping attempts in the past, but never one this…this mysterious and secret. Usually, when there were schemes and plots against someone, ALFEA was informed way in advance and normally took care of things before things could pop off. But this thing with this Angelica Takashima…we wouldn't have even known about it if Atkinson hadn't decided to sell out his colleagues. ALFEA had never been so in the dark like this before. That fact alone already made this case unique _and_ dangerous.

We didn't have any other information or intel about it. We didn't know who exactly was behind this (though we had a clue). We didn't know who else was involved or what their purpose was. We didn't know how proficient and enterprising these people were (though we had a clue of that too). Heck, we didn't even know their names or what they looked like. We literally knew _nothing._ And that meant _a lot. Everything,_ in fact. These kinds of situations were rare. And extremely treacherous. We were walking into the unknown, aiming to stop the unknown, and uncover the unknown.

I grinned to myself. Looked like we had our work cut for us.


	6. An Explosive Night to Remember

**Redo**

* * *

"Angelica Takashima? Yeah, I know her," said Stella distastefully, clicking her tongue. For some reason, she didn't want to tell us this until _after_ we typed her name in Google and got appromixately15,756,678 search results.

It was around evening the same day and we were back at Stella's apartment trying to put together the information Atkinson had given us. While the rest of us were crowded around Tecna's computer at the dining room table, Stella remained on the couch in the living room. Since none of us (excluding Stella, apparently) hadn't even heard of Angelica Takashima, the girl that was supposed to be kidnapped tomorrow night, until day, we decided to turn to Google for some basic answers.

On the right of the screen, Google gave a brief description of Angelica Takashima and her career as model, her basic information, and a few pictures of her face. Being 100% Japanese (according to her Wikipedia page), Angelica had a small, slender figure with flawless white skin, a perfect tiny nose, nice round, dark eyes, straight butt-length black hair to match, and small, pale lips.

"She's beautiful!" I cried out, swelling with admiration. See, I had the greatest respect for the Japanese (what anime fan didn't?). I mean, what wasn't to love about Japan? The different cultures, cuisine (chopsticks, baby!), history, cities, street fashion, cars, even the toilets! (Let's not forget kawaii!). Everything about the country was so unique. And as a bonus it was a known fact Japan was the most courteous, polite country in the world. It had the full package—scratch that, it _was_ the full package. That was one of the reasons I was stoked about graduating next year—besides obtaining absolute freedom from homework, Raelyn, Reese, the might-as-well-be-shit cafeteria food, the vending machines that spat out the wrong thing, the musty smells in the girls locker room, and particularly everything else that made our school cruddy. After graduation, we all planned on going to Tokyo to celebrate our official adulthood before we all scattered across the country to college.

Stella rolled her eyes, recrossing her legs "Please. Don't be fooled by her beauty. She might _look_ like a foreign angel, but she has the heart of a spoiled eggplant. _Plus_ she's a spoiled brat."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "Yeah right." It was a known fact Stella exaggerated when it came to people she didn't like.

"No, for real!" insisted Stella, running her tongue over her teeth. "She's the _definition_ of a snob! When I went to her birthday party on her dad's cruise liner last year, all she did was boast about _everything_." She looked over at her butler, who stood expectantly by the fire place. "You remember her, right Marcus? She was bragging every other breath."

"Indeed. Honestly, she reminded me of _you_ quite a lot," responded the butler matter-of-factly.

Stella pretended like she didn't hear that last part. "Stella, my father owns ten different properties in France," she said, mimicking Angelica in a tone that sounded more like a bullfrog being strangled to death with a thong than a faux-Japanese accent, "Stella, ten different model agencies want to recruit me for their upcoming projects next year. Stella, I have three million followers on Instagram. Stella, our toilets at home only run with sparkling stream water captured from the melting snowcaps of the Swiss Alps."

See what I meant? Stella had a tenancy to dramatize _everyone_ who didn't strike her fancy. I mean, seriously. Who in their right mind would brag about damn toilet water, even if it _did_ come from Switzerland's awe-inspiring Alps? That was just retarded.

I shook my head in disbelief. "There you go again. It's been scientifically proven the Japanese are more well-mannered than that."

"No, it hasn't," said Tecna, scrolling down the page. I ignored her.

Musa frowned disapprovingly. "Just because she's Japanese doesn't mean she's an angel. _That's_ an over exaggeration if you ask me. A lot of foreigners claim all Americans are ignorant and obese gun-loving hamburger-gorging environmentally-unconscious materialists, but look at Flora. She's none of those things. She's been in all AP classes since ninth grade with current a GPA of 3.92, she's a pacifist, _and_ she's been the president of the environmental club at school for four years _straight_. She's also part of an innovative recycling program plus she takes yoga. And for crying out loud, she's even a _vegetarian_."

Flora, who was sitting in a chair she'd pulled out from the table, blushed and gave a shy smile.

"You obviously haven't been to the South then," I half-joked, thinking of my old redneck neighbor from Georgia. Bitch had a guy living under her _porch._ This one time, she even trashed a friend's car over some stupid Taco Bell. After a small flagpole and a plastic Wal-Mart grocery bag got into the mix, one of the other neighbors had to call the police. But _anyway._ "They also say the Japanese are very musical, and look at you! You can nearly play every instrument in the book," I pointed out.

"Girls, focus," spoke up Bloom, clapping her hands and bringing us all back to attention before another verbal battle could break out. "We have more important things to discuss, like the possible kidnapping that's about to take place."

Tecna clicked on a Google Alert. "According to the trending news, the Takashimas _are_ hosting a party tomorrow night at their American headquarters on Fifth Avenue." She scrolled past a website that was titled _Team Cocktail Wins Worldwide Twitter Debate._ "Oh, and also, Kim Kardashian has officially decided to wear a cocktail dress to the event. Apparently, eighty-five percent of Twitterers have been fighting about what dress she should wear for a good week now."

I wrinkled my nose. "Twitterers? _That's_ what they're called?"

"Actually, the official term is _tweeps_ ," clarified Stella, who coincidentally happened to be composing a new Tweet on her iPhone.

"That's even worse," I snorted, "sounds like that spongy Peeps shit." Man, _fuck_ that candy.

"So there _is_ a party happening tonight, that much is sure," mused Bloom, sketching something on her notepad. Drawing helped her think better. "And as long as Angelica's going to be there, there's always that possibility Atkinson's intel is spot-on. Someone might actually try something tomorrow night."

"Why don't we just tell the police?" suggested Stella, her voice laced with boredom. She obviously didn't give a shit _what_ happened to Angelica. "They'll handle it."

"Not a good idea." Aisha, who was roller-skating between the two rooms, shook her head as she passed around the dining table. "The place is _already_ going to be reinforced with police and security, and I'm more than positive whoever's behind this conspiracy knows that. They most likely already know how to work around them. Besides, situations like this aren't what the police specialize in. That's where _we_ come in. We're spies for a reason."

Bloom nodded. "That's true. We can't overlook the fact Angelica could be kidnapped at her party, so we'll have to do things the old-fashioned way. Our best bet is infiltrating the party and keeping a close eye on her. We'll blend in with the party while patrolling for suspicious activity."

"Yes, but how are we supposed to get _in_ the party?" spoke up Flora, "it's not like we're red carpet material. Random high school girls can't just waltz in."

"Ah, but you forget!" Stella jumped to her feet, striking a pose as if she were actually _on_ the red carpet. " _I'm_ not a 'random high school girl.' "As the daughter of a multi- _billionaire—_ "I swear, Stella _always_ put a dramatic emphasis on _billionaire._ Like, c'mon, bro. We already know your dad can buy a Volvo or two for everyone in our school and _still_ have at least a few hundred million, so please spare us the dramatics for once. "—I can get us into the party no problem because I've already been _invited_." She snapped her fingers and Marcus disappeared into the hall. A few moments later, he came back with a gold-hued envelope.

Stella pulled out a fancy invention that was colored black with golden cursive and trimming. "'You are cordially invited to the Takashimas' V.I.P celebrity celebration," she read aloud, "'a glamorous star-studded evening with fine dining, entertainment, sparkling champagne, and other amenities. Instruct your driver to drop you off at Crystal Towers, 718 Fifth Avenue—"

"Okay, we get it. You have an invitation," I snapped, "we don't need to know what it says."

Stella ignored me. "It says here each guest is allowed to bring a guest. That's an opportunity to get two of us in."

"But I'm sure the party's going to be huge. It's going to take a lot more than two people to do a successful infiltration," pointed out Musa with a frown, taking off her headphones. "This sounds too big of a job for only two people. We'll need _multiple_ aspects of the situation. Multiple sets of eyes."

Aisha paused in between the living and dining room, letting out a sigh of defeat. "My family got invited too. My parents are occupied as always so they can't make it, and I was just gonna trash my invite, but if it'll get more of us inside…"

"Okay, great. So that'll plant four of us inside the party," said Musa, "what about the other three?"

"The invitation says no paparazzi but knowing Angelica, she'll _definitely_ have a few people taking pictures of her party for all the magazines," said Stella, "so it should be easy to get one of you inside as a photographer. And if anyone asks, all she has to say is that she's my private photographer and that she's capturing my _stunning_ image at different angles." Cue dramatic posing.

"And then someone else can go inside as a journalist. I'm positive there'll be _plenty_ there, so that's another easy way in," added Aisha.

"I can try hacking into Crystal Tower's network," piped up Tecna, closing out the internet and pulling up a hacking program. "If it's a kidnapping they're planning, I can see it coming if I can get into the security cameras. I'll be able to monitor everything at every angle. _Nothing_ will be able to slip past us."

"Good idea." Bloom smiled ear-to-ear. "Sounds like we have a plan. And it's time to put it into action."

"It won't be easy getting into the mainframe, though," warned Tecna, turning around in her seat with a frown on her face, "considering this is a headquarters of a major company that specializes in tech, it won't be easy cracking into their system, which I'm sure is reinforced with a few _dozen_ firewalls and other network security. I should be able to do it but since we have a deadline, I may need a little assistance."

"Understood." Bloom nodded, reaching down for her purse on the floor at her feet. "Don't worry. While you get on that, I'll make a call." She pulled out her Android and cracked a faint smile. "Looks like we're gonna need the Crocodile Kid."

* * *

For some reason, the subway station smelt like pissy cheese and a burning corpse bathing in feces today. I wasn't kidding.

I held my breath the entire time Aisha, Flora, and I waited for the local train on the platform. I mean, subway stations _always_ smelt like crap, but this one smelt especially foul today. And considering the few people wandering up and down the length of the platform were holding and covering their noses, their senses weren't dull either. It was no wonder Stella didn't "do" subways. Though Aisha was doing something on her iPhone and Flora reading one of those cheesy books of romantic poetry, I knew they smelt it too by the way their nostrils were flared. It was hard _not_ to.

A sudden shiver coursed down my spine and I became alert. Someone's eyes were on us. I could feel them staring. I glanced over my shoulders and then looked around. A sign overhead told when the local and express trains would arrive. So far, both tracks were empty. Across our platform was another set of tracks, separated by a bunch of steel beams and rails. Most of the platforms were empty. There were posters on the brick walls, advertising the latest Disney movies. I caught a glimpse of something behind a steel beam on the platform across from ours. I blinked and that something was gone. I glanced at the girls again. They didn't seem to notice.

"Did it feel like someone was watching you just now?" I whispered to Flora, nudging her softly. She just shrugged in return.

Suddenly, a gust of wind picked up and the local train came raging through the tunnel. The cars rumbled loudly over the tracks, the doors whooshed open, and the passengers spilled out onto the platform. Though the crowd was thick, all three of us only saw one boy. With messy dark hair and thick-framed red glasses, it was easy to spot Naoki disembarking the train as he shrugged on his backpack. He was looking around, his eyes in search of us.

"Naoki!" called out Aisha, waving at him.

Once he spotted us, he waved back and pushed his way toward us. "Hey there, Crocodile Kid," I said, grinning. I _still_ didn't know why we chose that as his codename. It just…suited him for some reason.

Aisha ruffled Naoki's hair and Flora pulled him into a hug and pressed a sweet kiss on his head. Naoki blushed deeply and gave us an awkward smile. "H-hi, girls," he stammered, grinning ear-to-ear. "So what's up?"

Naoki, aka the Crocodile Kid, was our tech guy. Well, our _second_ tech guy (Tecna deserved some credit too). Though he was no spy, our nerd happened to be a genius, especially in all things computer. Hacking was basically his superpower; there was _nothing_ he couldn't get into. Whenever we needed to crack into some tech, Naoki was our go-to guy. Naoki's parents were spies themselves, so they had no problem with Naoki being around us as long as we kept him out of danger.

"We'll fill you in on the way back to Stella's," replied Aisha as we headed for the concrete stairs.

Before we left the station, I peered over my shoulder again. I could still feel someone's cold eyes boring into me. Now, passengers were embarking the train, but I wasn't paying attention to either of them. I was staring at someone sitting beside a pole in one of the cars. Icy. In a midriff tank top and a matching skit, I almost didn't recognize her. I was startled. Though the Winx and Trix often had unfortunate run-ins during missions, neither team had ever came face-to-fact outside the spy business, as regular civilians. Manhattan was a big place after all.

She was staring at me, grinning icily. She pointed two V-sign fingers at her eyes and then at me as if saying _I'm watching you, little fairy._ Before I could alert the others, more passengers flooded into Icy's car, blocking my view of her.

An alarm blared, warning passengers of closing doors. I gritted my teeth and watched as the doors slowly kissed door and the train pulled away, taking Icy with it.

* * *

Basically, if you were a spy, you were an actor.

You took on many different faces with personalities to match. One moment you could be posing as a fussy talent scout and then a Pine Sol-obsessed janitor the next (we didn't discriminate. Whatever got the job done). If you needed water works for extra effect, you had to summon convincing tears right then and there. If you needed to act like an absolute asshole, you needed to be prepared to throw some insults and break some shit without any regrets. It was all part of the job.

Again, if you were a spy, you were basically an actor, except we didn't call our parts "roles". No, instead, they were our _cover._ There was a special saying in the business that went, "a spy is as good as his or her cover" and that was one of the truest things ever said by a human being. A good spy _had_ to be as good as their cover or else the rest of the operation was straight up doomed. See, we didn't play our parts for the camera. We didn't have multiple takes to "get it right". You only had _one_ shot to perfect your "scene." If you blew your cover, you blew the operation. No second chances. So if a spy couldn't adapt to their cover or didn't know how to maintain it, they were a shitty spy. So if you wanted to be the part, you had to act the part through and through.

That's why for the rest of the night, Musa—who was going to play the part of Stella's private photographer—spent most of her time familiarizing herself with the Canon camera Stella let her borrow and memorizing photography terminology on Google while Flora, who was going as a "lucky" journalist on an internship, utilized her time by learning journalist ethics.

And since I was going to the party as Stella's one guest, the blond insisted on teaching me some upper-class mannerisms so I wouldn't embarrass her. Of course, I complained and pointed how Aisha, who was taking Bloom as her guest, wasn't making the redhead learn any overrated "classy" etiquette and Stella's exact words had been, _"I'm not Aisha. Unlike her, I actually have an image to keep. If you wanna ride with a rich girl, you gotta act like a rich girl."_

When I pointed out that I _wasn't_ a rich girl, she said that was why I needed to act like one since I didn't have the actual money to back me up. Naturally, I begged Musa to switch places with me for a straight hour afterwards, but she wouldn't let up. When _that_ plan failed, I threatened to walk out of the operation, _especially_ after Stella told me classy ladies didn't swear or act inappropriate (I guess dick jokes didn't fly with the rich) because it'd make me look unrefined (which I was).

However, once Stella told me there'd be Belgian milk chocolate at the party, I quickly shut my mouth and took her shitty "how to be suave" (not the shampoo, lotion, body wash, _or_ conditioner kind of suave) lecture. (I was a sucker for chocolate like my mother and her weird potato wedge fetish).

Meanwhile, Tecna and Naoki stayed hunched over their laptops all night, clacking away on their keyboards as they slowly hacked their way into Crystal Tower's network while trading computer stories that only the true tech-savvy would understand.

Things rolled that way for a good ten hours or so until finally, at around 8:30am the next day, Naoki shouted in triumph. "Yes, we're in!"

The rest of us gathered shot up from the furniture and gathered around Tecna's and Naoki's computers at the table. Their laptops were side-by-side, linked together by a white USB cable.

"We did it, Bloom. We're successfully inside Crystal Tower's main network," reported Tecna, clicking through a bunch of different files. "All of the information stored within their main database is at our fingertips. Also, we can now access anything that's synced to the supercomputer, including video surveillance feedback."

Bloom let out a whoop. "Nice work you two."

"I already tapped into the one of the supercomputer's files and downloaded the floor plan of the building," added Naoki, grinning proudly, pulling up some kind of complex blueprint. "In total, Crystal Towers has sixty-six floors, twelve elevators, forty-seven flights of stairs, and a helipad on the roof, all in which are monitored by two hundred fifty four security cameras." He pressed a key and both screens divided up into a series of many squares, each one showing different camera footage in black-and-white. "Obviously, this isn't footage from all two hundred fifty four cameras, but we can access _any_ camera at _any_ given time." He pressed another key and a different playback took up the whole screen. It was of a bathroom, apparently the men's' because a dude was pissing into a urinal. Naoki stammered in embarrassment and exited out of the live footage. "You get the picture. If needed, we can also sync surveillance to any of your smartphones."

"Obviously, we shouldn't focus on all sixty-six floors," said Tecna, "according to the floor plan, the sixty-sixth floor is the highest one, so our main focus should be directed toward this level, the ground levels, and the helipad."

"Because the only official exit and entrance is on the ground level while the helipad is located at the top," inferred Flora.

"And also because anything that happens in between can't escape our knowing without leaving passing through either the lowest or highest point," added Stella.

Naoki bobbed his head in agreement, switching to video footage of the topmost floor, where the party was being set up. The staff was working and scrambling on every side of the room, doing things like putting up last-minute decorations, setting up buffet tables, and stocking the bar.

"Plus, the helipad's right upstairs, which could serve as a more convenient and faster escape-slash-entrance for the kidnappers versus the ones downstairs on the street level. It'd be way easier to get away via a helicopter than trying to descend sixty-nine floors and risk getting caught by security, which is already _super_ tight by the way."

To prove his point, he started clicking through the footage of the other floors. Sure enough, meaty guys in black suits and sunglasses to match were already stationed on few of the floors closest to the seventieth. "It's my guess that more will arrive later on when the party starts. Plus, the host and his daughter will probably have personal escorts as well. To be honest, whoever these kidnappers are must be either really confident or really stupid to try to pull this scheme off."

"Probably but it's never wise to underestimate an enemy," pointed out Musa, "that's rule number one."

"Okay, so we're sticking with the original plan," announced Bloom, "while we all infiltrate the party, Naoki and Tecna will monitor the surveillance cameras for any suspicious activity inside the rest of the building. The plan will be set into motion tonight. Everything's proceeding as planned."

"About time." Stella yawned. "Teaching someone how to act high-class is _so_ tiring. I need some shut-eye _pronto_."

" _You? We're_ the ones who've been staring at a computer screen nonstop for ten hours _straight_ ," pointed out Tecna, blinking her dry, huge eyes.

Naoki stiffly rose from his chair, his neck cracking and joints popping. "Yeah. I can barely feel my legs," he grumbled, straightening out his back.

"I think we could _all_ use some sleep," agreed Bloom, "the brain functions better when the body's well-rested. We need to be prepared for whatever happens tonight."

* * *

"How does my hair look?" asked Stella for the umpteenth time, palming her gelled-to-an-inch-of-life hair. Me, her, Bloom, Musa, and Aisha were all sitting in the back of Stella's limousine as Marcus steered it down neon-lit Fifth Avenue. Flora had already taken the subway Crystal Towers and successfully gotten into the building disguised as a journalist for _New York Times_. To stay in touch with each other, we wore ear communicators instead of our Winx Watches, which happened to be too conspicuous for this mission.

"It looks fine," I droned for the umpteenth time, glancing out of the window as the buildings whizzed by. I cracked the window a bit, letting in some fresh air since the air inside the whole vehicle was thick and suffocating with Chanel perfume.

We were all made up for the party and even I had to admit we were fabulous. Stella was in a stunning orange minidress with strappy white heels, her thick mascara winged with cat-eye effect and her shimmering pink. Next came Bloom, who was red hot tonight. Literally. Her sheath dress and stilettos were the same shade of light red while her eyelids were shadowy and sultry with scarlet and her lips shiny with black cherry gloss. Aisha, who would've worn sweats and sneakers if she could, had on a gorgeous turquoise A-line dress with high heels to match. The only makeup she wore was a purple gloss and she kept her hair in the same high-ponytail. Musa looked more on the professional side in a black pantsuit with matching high heels and deep-red lips. Lastly came me in my grey halter dress and black lace-up heels. Stella had "glamourized" my face before we left, swiping peachy-pink lipstick on my lips and dabbing my eyes with dark shadow. She even went the extra mile by putting my hair in a perfect, sexy messy ponytail. I barely recognized myself when I saw my appearance in her vanity mirror.

"Remember, adaption is one of the spy's biggest expertises," reminded Bloom as the limo halted at a stoplight. "Keep an eye on the target, but try to keep a low profile. We have to look like normal, everyday guests."

Stella clicked her tongue, unlocking the center console and taking out a bottle of champagne. " _No one_ at the party is a 'normal, everyday guest.' These are _stars_ we're talking about."

"You get what I mean. And no drinking before a job," said Bloom firmly.

Stella pouted, putting away the bottle of champagne. "Yeesh. Fine. I was only gonna have a glass. Or two."

Bloom touched her ear communicator. "Digital Defender, Crocodile Kid. Do you read us?"

"Loud and clear, Wildfire," reported Tecna. She and Naoki were back at Stella's apartment, monitoring the cameras.

"Lumgh amn cmear," said Naoki with a delighted giggle, his voice muffled like he was eating something. He was probably already helping himself to the ice cream Stella promised him. If there hadn't been Belgian milk chocolate at the party, I probably would've volunteered to be there with him, taking advantage of all that creamy goodness (I didn't play about my ice cream, either).

After about three more minutes of driving, Marcus shifted the limo into park along a curb. "We're here, misses," he said.

"Let's do this thing, people!" exclaimed Stella. After blowing Marcus a kiss, she swung out of the limousine.

"Good luck," said Marcus as the rest of us climbed out.

"Thanks. Hopefully, we don't need it," said Musa, camera in hand as we joined Stella on the sidewalk. We watched as Marcus shifted into drive and started down the street.

"C'mon, ladies. The party awaits," said Stella, flipping her hair over her shoulder and flouncing toward Crystal Tower's glass entrance.

Bloom sighed. "We're not here to party, you know," she said lowly as we walked into the modern, crowded lobby.

"Oh, c'mon. You said we have to keep a low profile, right?" reminded Stella as we headed for the elevator bank. "We can't look suspicious. We won't draw too much attention to ourselves if we try to have a little fun like everyone else."

Once we were inside an elevator, Stella poked the shiny button with the number 66 written on it in bold. Oh boy. Wasn't 66 an unlucky number?

"Do whatever you have to, but don't lose focus of what we're here to do," warned Bloom as the doors kissed close and we began to rise. "Make sure Angelica Takashima goes _un_ kidnapped all throughout the party. That's priority number one. Got it?"

"Got it," chorused me, Stella, and Musa as the elevator came to a stop.

"Good. Let's go in, ladies," said Bloom as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open to a whole new scene.

We walked into the room whose dark walls were covered in mosaics and whose tables were decorated with flora centerpieces. To the right of the buffet tables were plushy booths that lined the wall, packed with iconic, fabulously dressed individuals. The leather-paneled bar was _huge,_ placed against the wall of glass pane windows that had a great view of Fifth Avenue.

"We're in," whispered Bloom into her ear comm.

I spotted Flora by the bar, talking with a group of aspiring journalists. Whoa. She adapted _fast._ I noticed how her group was in close proximity to another crowd of chatting people, Angelica Takashima centering the action. And let me just say, she was _the_ definition of Japanese beauty. She wore an elegant dark blue modern-style Japanese dress and all of her hair was pulled back into a sleek low bun. Even in the dim lighting, I could see her bold red lips that complimented her lightly made-up eyes.

I was about to ask Stella if she could introduce me, but Aisha suddenly grabbed my wrist and started dragging me toward the other side of the room. "There's my cousin," she said, sounding slightly excited as she waved a young man nearby the booths.

"So? What does that have to do with me?" I hissed, wincing at the insanely tight grip she had around my wrist. Seriously, was she _trying_ to cut off my circulation?

"Nereus, hi!" exclaimed Aisha, letting go of me and throwing her arms around her cousin. "Nereus" was a tall, athletically-built young man with long hair and pale blue eyes.

"Cousin Aisha!" exclaimed Nereus in surprise as Aisha squeezed him tight. I noticed he had a friend with him, both of them clad in black suits. The other guy, who had tanned skin and matching brown eyes and hair, winked at me. I furrowed my eyebrows at him.

"It's so good to see you again," said Aisha, pressing a kiss on her cousin's cheek. I had to admit, this was a little weird. I'd never seen Tough Girl Aisha _dote_ on someone like this. She and her cousin must've been really close. But what _really_ caught me off guard was when Aisha felt the need to introduce us. "Nereus, this is my friend, Acadia," she said suddenly, gesturing toward me. "Acadia, Nereus."

Usually, Regular Acadia would've been like "sup, bro" or "how's it hanging?" or even "I don't want to talk to you. Get out of my face" on bad days, but I remembered Stella's "how to be suave" lecture. I _was_ her guest after all and if she didn't want me embarrassing her, which honestly I didn't want to do, I'd have to act "classy". "Charming." "Hi. I'm Acadia," I said in the softest tone I could force, offering my hand.

Much to my surprise, Nereus actually took it and we shook. I tried not to wince at how tight he was grasping my hand. I guess strong grips ran in the Andros family…He gave me a smile and I smiled back.

"This is Brandon, one of my friends from school," he said, pointing at Brunette Boy.

"Hola, senoritas." Brandon winked at us. I could already tell he was a ladies' man. As Aisha and Nereus did some catching up, he even tried starting a conversation with me.

"I'm not that kind, you know," he said, pretending to sound sad.

I'd been too busy glancing at Angelica and then at Stella, who was posing for some pictures for Musa, her "personal photographer", who was encouraging Stella in a perfect faux-French accent. "Kind of what?" I asked half-heartedly.

Brandon pretended to look around cautiously and then leaned in closer. "The _rich_ kind," he whispered like it was some kind of secret, "I'm just an Average Joe."

"Same here," I said casually, pretending like I didn't notice Angelica, my new inspiration, walking past us. "One of Aisha's and I's friends were nice enough to let me come with her. And to be honest, I only accepted to come for the Belgian milk chocolate."

Brandon's eyes bugled. "The Belgians have their own chocolate, too?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

My mouth dropped open. "You never had it?" I asked in disbelief. He shook his head. Bless his poor soul! Had he been living in a closet for ten years? I grabbed his hand. "Come quickly, child! I will lead you to the foreign wonderfulness that is European chocolate."

It took us a good _ten minutes_ to finally find the table of delicacies. I whistled at the big glass bowl of individually wrapped chocolate squares. "Good damn," I whispered, "that's a lot of chocolate."

Brandon was already digging is hand into the bowl. He managed to tear the packing off in one rip and shoved the whole square into his mouth. " _Heaven,"_ he murmured, chewing it slowly.

Meanwhile, I was struggling with unwrapping my own chocolate. I knew that sounded retarded but you know how you could tear a bit of the wrapping off but then the piece broke off and you couldn't peel off the rest of the packaging without critically damaging whatever was stuck to it? That just happened to me. I fiddled with it for a second, got frustrated, and just put it to the side and got a new one out of the bowl. This time, I was able to unwrap it easily. "Good, right?" I chuckled. I swore my taste buds were hitting the quan as I slowly chewed up the Belgian chocolate.

We stood there for a while, indulging in chocolate after chocolate. Together, we probably ate a fourth of the whole bowl. The taste never got old. I knew I was supposed to be helping the girls patrol the party, but _Belgian chocolate!_ When was the next time I was gonna get the chance to eat a thousand calories-worth of chocolate? Seriously, anymore and the two of us were gonna get high, if that was possible.

"Wind Dancer!" Stella's voice hissed in my ear. "Wind Dancer!"

I spotted her watching us by the bar, her eyes wide and glued on Brandon. "I'll be right back," I told him, swiping another quick chocolate square. "Don't go anywhere."

"Oh, trust me. I'm not," assured Brandon.

I shot over toward the bar. "What's up?" I asked Stella, smelling the chocolate on my own breath.

Stella nodded toward the table of delicacies, where Brandon was. "Who's _that_?" she whispered,

Apparently, she hadn't been listening to her ear comm when Nereus introduced us. "That's Brandon, Aisha's cousin's friend."

"OMG, he's so gorgeous," whispered Stella, to me or to herself I had no idea. She grabbed my arm. "You gotta introduce me."

"You gotta introduce _me_ to Angelica first," I countered, " _then_ I'll bring you over to Brandon."

Stella pressed her lips together. " _Fine._ Let's make this quick."

She took me over to Angelica, who was taking a few sips of champagne by the booths. "Hey, Angelica. Thanks for inviting me to your party," said Stella in the worst mock-enthusiastic tone I'd ever heard her make.

"You're welcome. Thank you for coming," said Angelica airily in her beautiful, soft Japanese accent. Her lovely eyes landed on me. "Who's this?" she asked slowly, looking me up and down.

"This is Acadia Jones, a close friend of mine," replied Stella in a monotone.

"Hiya!" I squeaked, giving her a tiny wave. "It's nice to meet you." Besides Musa, I'd never been this close to a Japanese girl. She looked even more delicate and angelic up close. I just wanted to reach out and touch her shiny black hair (which totally sounded creepy and was a legit violation of personal space).

"I see." Angelica looked indifferent. "I hope you enjoy yourself tonight." And without saying anything else, she turned and walked away to speak with her other guests.

"I don't understand what your problem is with her," I said, sending Stella a hard look. "She was really polite."

"Polite? She didn't even say hi to you. _Or_ to me." Stella rolled her eyes. "But I'll admit, that was her being fairly nice. But trust me, that girl is as two-faced as they come. She can transform into a she-devil at the drop of a hat."

"Wind Dancer, Supernova, spread out and keep your eye on the target," reminded Bloom through our ear comms. I spotted her on the other side of the room, weaving through the crowds nearby Angelica. "Stay alert and don't lose focus on her."

Stella totally ignored Bloom. "Okay, now introduce me to Brandon," she said, once again sounding lively.

Oddly, Brandon really _didn't_ go anywhere. I found him right where I left him—by the bowl of chocolates. "Brandon, this is Stella. Stella, Brandon," I said quickly, "she's the friend I was telling you about. You have my blessings. Now eat chocolate together."

And I left them just like that. As good as those chocolates were and as much as I wanted to watch Stella make a fool of herself, I wanted to talk to Angelica. She was so beautiful! Besides, by staying in her presence, I was technically protecting her so it was a win-win.

Unfortunately, I was intercepted by Nereus halfway over to Angelica. "Oh, uh, hi," I said awkwardly, not sure why he was even bothering with me. Wasn't Aisha just with him? Where the heck did she go?

I happened to look to the right, noticing the girl. She was watching us like a hawk by a table on the other side of the room. I couldn't tell if she was trying to signal me or what. She was just…staring. And I couldn't decipher the look on her face either.

"Hey. Uh, I just wanted to say you look _really_ stunning in that dress," he said sweetly, turning red.

"Thanks…?" Wait, did _Aisha_ make him say that?

"Nereus!" called out a playful voice.

"Target approaching your position, Wind Dancer," said Naoki, giving me a head's up.

We both turned to see Angelica making her way over to us. "Good evening, Nereus-san," she said, bowing her head.

I had to stop myself from squealing. I'd never heard someone use a Japanese honorific in real life before. It sounded so perfect when it wasn't coming out of the mouth of some anime character.

Nereus bowed back. "Angelica-san," he returned with a slight Japanese accent.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it? It feels like forever since you last visited me in Japan," she said with a polite smile. "How have you been?"

"Good, I guess. Just busy. And you?"

Angelica sighed. "It's the same here. I've been really busy with work and all. It's all been hectic, really." Angelica gave a dramatic sigh for effect. "It's nice to finally put it all behind me for once. Thanks for coming to my party, by the way. It's really nice seeing you again. We used to be so close when we were smaller."

Something on Nereus beeped. "Uh, that was my phone," he said quickly, "I have to take that." And with that, he seemed to rush away.

Okay, that was weird. Maybe he was just one of those socially awkward types. Anyway. I turned to speak to Angelica, but froze when I noticed the hard look she was giving me.

"He doesn't want you, you know," she said matter-of-factly, giving me a chilling grin.

I creased my forehead at her. "Excuse me?"

"He doesn't want you," repeated Angelica. "You're of no worth to him. You don't come from money, I can tell. People like him don't marry into poor families like yours."

I blinked. What the _fuck_?

"Weaseling into a celebrity gathering isn't going to impress him," went on Angelica icily, "it'll take a lot more and frankly, you have nothing to give. You've already given your two cents, and that's about all you can do." She flashed a grin at me. "Now, if you'd excuse me, I have guests to attend to." And she clicked away in her high heels.

Again, what the _fuck?_

"Burn," muttered Naoki over the comm. I heard Tecna swat at him. "Ow!"

"See. I told you so," snorted Stella, who was literally over there eating European chocolate with Brandon.

Aisha growled lightly. I blinked again. What in the actual hell? I stood there for a moment. _"Bitch,"_ I growled. I had to admit, I was surprised. I didn't think I'd have to use that term to describe a Japanese person. I didn't even want Nereus! The hell was her problem?

Ugh. I think my respect for the Japanese just got dented. Well, I heard the Chinese are especially nice…

* * *

"If I could have everyone's attention, please," said Angelica's voice over the microphone. It was about an hour later and Angelica was about to give a speech in the middle of the room. At this point, I wasn't even stunting her ass anymore. I spent most of the time following Stella around and eating Swedish chocolate (which isn't as good as the Belgian kind).

I spot Nereus in the crowd, watching her with smiling eyes. Oh, gag me. I didn't understand why Angelica was fussing over me. Nereus was probably already as good as hers.

"I'd like to thank everyone for coming to celebrate with me," she went on, glowing with that Japanese radiance. I rolled my eyes. Hopefully, her speech meant the party was about to end. At this point, I ready to take my ass home (but not before I filled my pockets with some more Belgian chocolate. Ya know. For the road).

As she went on and on about how "thankful" she was for everyone's support, I wandered over to score some more chocolate. I noticed a suit and sunglasses-clad guard standing nearby. With a gleaming hairless head, he could be the grown version of Caillou.

He was mumbling into his ear communicator, probably to the other security guards. He was watching Angelica, who was just finishing up her speech and receiving a round of applause. "Set it off," I heard him grumble.

I froze. _Set it off._ Set _what_ —

 _Boom._

I dropped my chocolate.

Me, the Winx, and the rest of the guests screamed in horror as the close sound shook the room. The sound of glass shattering against the floor and terrified screams rang all around me. A horrible stench of gunpowder filled the air and the fire alarm began to blare. All at once, everyone began swarming for the elevators. Black smoke poured out from seemingly everywhere, filling and burning my lungs.

The Winx started to shout over the comm link. "What's happening? The smoke's blocking out our view of the room!" Tecna was saying the same time Stella was saying, "I think that was a bomb!" and Bloom, "Is everyone okay? Find Angelica, find Angelica!"

I pushed against the crowds, my head snapping around. I didn't see any of the Winx. I didn't see Angelica, either. But what I _did_ see was the bar, which was nothing but a lit piece of wood now. The whole damn thing was burning, the fire growing bigger and bigger. Behind it, the big windows had popped and shattered, most likely from the explosion. A few bodies that had got caught in the explosion were lying limp on the ground, charred and lifeless.

I swallowed hard, trying not to look. "Everyone, we have helicopter landing on the rooftop!" shouted Naoki.

"We can't get there! There are too many people in the elevators," Bloom shouted back.

"Let me go!" I heard Angelica wail from across the room. My head snapped in her direction. I saw Caillou Guard dragging Angelica toward a door. The janitor's closest? What the fuck? He swung open the door, revealing a set of stairs. _Oh. Not_ a janitor's closest.

Choking on the smoke, I sprinted for them. On my way over, I happened to run into Nereus. He seized my wrist. "We have to get out of here—"

I shook him off. "Just go," I shouted, pushing him away. "Hurry before it's too late."

I pretended not to hear as I ran for the door Caillou Guard and Angelica had just gone through. The staircase took me up to a space that wasn't big enough to be a room. Breathing in the stale, hot air, I ran charged out of the doorway, ending up on the rooftop.

That very moment, Caillou Guard was forcing Angelica onto a helicopter. "Freeze, douche!" I shouted over the sound of its spinning blades.

Caillou Guard looked over his shoulder at me, pulled out a hand gun really quick, and shot poorly at me. I ducked, throwing myself onto the ground. That was all the time Caillou Guard needed; he pushed Angelica into the helicopter and just barely managed to jump into it himself before the chopper rose into the air.

"No!" I shouted, staggering to my feet. But it was already too late. The helicopter was already taking off, taking off into the night.

And it carried Angelica away with it.


	7. The Start of Something Sinister

**A/n: I'M A GENIUS. I FINALLY FOUND IT. A WORTHY PLOT, THE MAIN PLOT. It pays to brainstorm instead of writing down some random shit! This story is about to get a whole lot better.**

* * *

Apparently, getting kidnapped boosted your overall popularity by at least thirty-five percent.

Early Monday morning, West and I sat in front of the TV, switching through the different news channel while sharing a carton of cookie-dough ice cream. By the way every report, bulletin, and update was centered around Angelica's kidnapping, you'd think she was the heir to the English throne instead of some Japanese tech-slash-soda company.

For one straight hour we'd been watching live news anchors from all over the US pull random civilians off the street and ask for their dramatic opinions on the situation as if they _truly_ mattered. Like, c'mon people. Cry me a river, but unnaturally summoned-for-the-camera tears weren't going to bring a kidnapped girl back. But regardless of that, it was almost funny to see the people being interviewed weep, rant, and preach about

One of the dumbasses even described her adduction as "a tragedy in our country's history" even though the girl wasn't even _American_. And like, seriously? Tragedies in our history were things like terrorist bombings, wars, presidential assassinations, freakin' Hurricane Katrina! _Not_ kidnappings of sugar-faced human-ified shit stains.

One idiot had gone even further and called the situation "a social injustice". _A social injustice._ Social injustices were discrimination, prejudices, racism! (That's right. I paid attention in social studies). Last time I checked, the disappearance of a long-haired she-dick on legs didn't register as any of the above. _This_ was specifically why all those countries (specifically the European ones) looked down on America. A lot of these people were such legit fools, they didn't even realize.

I clicked my tongue distastefully. "Don't these channels have other things to report, like _actual news_ for instance?" Every channel, even the local news, was doing nothing but showing live footage of Crystal Towers, the swarm of police officers and FBI agents patrolling the sidewalk, and the mile-or-two worth of police tape sectioning off the whole block. This was total overkill. When kids her age were kidnapped, there'd be an occasional story or update every now and then but when a mega-rich she-Asian heir got snatched, they made sure every man, woman, child, and dog in America knew.

West shrugged. "Her kidnappers are probably just holding her for random. Once they make their demands, the Takashimas will fork over some cash and boom. They have their daughter back. In this world, money answers any problem."

"Then I guess I couldn't afford to get kidnapped, huh? Because money is something we don't have," I joked.

West yawned. "They'd have to be pretty desperate to take you. Thugs like whoever has the Takashima don't go for no names like you." Gee, thanks. "You'd have to be someone important, like the president's daughter or something."

Mom emerged from the hallway with little Stephanie padding at her heels, her blond pigtails swinging everywhere. West immediately changed to Nickelodeon. Stephanie was afraid of the news; ever since she watched that story about a colony of bees swarming into a CVS in Houston, she'd been afraid of news channels, bees, and all CVS drugstores alike. We didn't want to spark anymore silly fears in our sister, so we just avoided the news when she was around.

"West, I need the whole apartment cleaned and dinner made by seven tonight," announced Mom, walking into the kitchen to fix Steph some cereal. "Steph, go wake up Bailey. It's almost time for school." West groaned loudly and Stephanie bounced back into the hall.

"What's the occasion?" I asked suspiciously.

Mom beamed, setting two bowls at the table. "My boyfriend's coming over for dinner."

"Oh, I'll be damned," I protested, jumping to my feet in seconds. "I thought we agreed you wouldn't bring Diablo's bald ass back over here."

Mom scowled at me. "Language! Your little sister's in the other room," she reminded with a frown, "and no. It's not Diablo. I'm talking about my new boyfriend."

My jaw dropped. "Are you serious? You jumped ship _already_? You were just staying over his place last week!" I swore, if I had a dollar for each of Mom's boyfriends, I'd be able to go on a shopping spree at Target. My mom was in love with being in love. And boy, did she fall in love easily. All a guy needed to do was say the magic words: "Have a drink with me" (usually, she was the one who ended up paying). And after that, things always escalated to something greater than drinking buddies.

Mom smiled. "Actually, I broke up with Diablo a long time ago." Her definition of "a long time ago" was a week or two at most.

"That or he finally got arrested for drug dealing," grumbled West, stretching himself out on the couch as Steph returned with pajama-clad Bailey.

Mom sent West a hard look. "He's not in prison. I just called things off. I got tired of his drama."

"Or he got tired of _ours_ ," mumbled Bailey from the table. I knew that was the case, too. Something told me no one wanted to stick around a woman who had six kids by different men. That was just asking for drama.

Mom pretended like she didn't hear any of us. "So what did you have in mind for dinner?" asked West before I could say something else smart.

"I was thinking of those crispy things," replied Mom, "the ones with cheese."

I facepalmed. Oh boy. Here we go. Another round of the guessing game. "You mean pizza?" I asked, wrinkling my nose.

Mom shook her head. "No, no. You know! The crispy, triangular things with cheese?"

"You mean _pizza_?" I repeated.

"No! The things with the thin bread."

" _Pizza,"_ I snapped. Yeesh, how the heck did you expect someone to make something you didn't even know the name of?

"Not pizza! They sometimes add vegetables to it."

"PIZZA!" I nearly shouted at her.

" _No_! I think it's Mexican or something."

"Quesadillas?" guessed West.

"Yes! That's it!" Mom nodded. "Quesadillas! I need you to make those." Mom didn't know any recipes, or even any terminology, because she sucked at cooking. She couldn't make a grilled cheese even if _all_ of our lives depended on it. The last time she even attempted cooking was right before summer vacation when she tried making lasagna, which ended up looking like last week's abortion in a baking dish.

"What kind? Chicken or beef?"

"Chicken. He's bringing his children so—"

" _What?"_ Bailey, West, and I said, our mouths dropping open. Mom had dated men with kids before, but introductions had never bothered to be made since the relationship would just end in a few weeks. There'd been no point in meeting kids we'd only see once or twice. But for us to be meeting mom's boyfriend's children must've meant this was serious. _Serious._

"Got it. I'll get on it shortly." By "shortly", West meant in at least three hours. Before he did _anything_ , he had to take a powernap which would last anything between fifteen minutes and six hours.

"Thanks. And try not to cook them too much. I want everything to be perfect for tonight." Mom was actually glowing with excitement.

I eyed her as she went around the apartment getting Stephanie ready for school. I hadn't seen her this happy in a long time. Maybe she'd truly found her match. Okay, I doubted it, but it was still nice to see her so alive. And who knew? Maybe this guy, even his kids, was legit. You never knew until you gave them a chance, right?

* * *

I swore P.E. had to be the easiest blow-off class in the history of all things academic. That _especially_ went for us spies. When you scaled rooftops and wrestled with guys built like a brick shithouses, running a few measly laps around the gym was easier than pie with vanilla ice cream on top, even for the un-athletic types like Tecna.

She, Musa, and I crowded into the girls' locker room with our other classmates. Unlike them, we hadn't even broken a sweat. While Tecna and Musa talked about some assignment in their AP US History class (thank goodness I was in Economics), I went to my locker to grab a water bottle.

I unlocked my locker and immediately reeled in horror at the foul smell that wafted out of it. What the _fuck?_ It smelt like someone had taken a shit in there! _Wait._ I dared to look into my locker, inhaling the strong, terrible fumes. It smelt like someone had taken a shit in there because there _was_ shit in there! Sitting in a small, clear plastic was a few lumps of black dog poop.

"What the _hell_?" I roared.

Behind me, somebody snorted. "Ha! You always smelt like shit, but now I know why," said Raelyn's disgustingly haughty voice.

I whirled around, glaring down at the short brunette. _"Bitch,"_ I spat, "you know you did this!"

Raelyn wrinkled her nose. "Yeah right. Why would _I_ seriously waste my time picking up dog shit to dump in _your_ locker? You're _so_ not worth that. I don't even have a dog. You put that in there yourself."

I laughed rudely. "And why in the fuck would I do that?"

"Why else? Because you're _sick,"_ snapped Raelyn, "you're not right in the head. I always knew there was something weird about you, but not _this_ weird. So is that what you like? Collecting dog waste? That's fucking _disgusting_ , Acadia." She was purposely talking loud, making the other girls turn and stare. "And you know what? I bet this isn't even the half of it. I bet you _eat_ it, too. That's why your breath always smells like shit."

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists at my side. Fuck her, fuck her, _FUCK HER._ I was TIRED of her freaking drama! I was TIRED of her bullying! It took everything in me to keep myself from slapping her ass straight to hell, to stop myself from shoving the bag of poop right down her throat. _Then_ we'd see who ate shit.

"That's enough," said Musa firmly, standing up from the bench.

Raelyn ignored her. "Does it get you off, eating _shit_?" she spat, "that's not normal, Acadia. That's _sick,_ you're _sick._ I wonder what other repulsive things you do. Do you like human shit too? I bet that's why you hang around the restrooms so much. You probably even save your _own_ feces. Your apartment probably smells like you— _shit._ Maybe even your family too. I know they're all fucking crazy—you had to get it from somewhere, right?"

A wave of fury washed over me. I was shaking with anger. How _dare_ she talk about my family like that, and to my face too! I could feel my rage taking over. And the next thing I knew, I was reaching out for Raelyn with both hands. Summoning all the strength I could, I pushed her _hard_. _"SHUT UP!"_ I screamed. I

A look of sheer panic tainted Raelyn's face as she staggered back uncontrollably. She fell backward into a wall of lockers, landing against it with a hard _thump._ The other girls gasped, a few even laughed.

"You _bitch_!" shrieked Raelyn, her whole body trembling furiously as she struggled to straighten herself back up. She wasn't even balanced before she was throwing herself at me.

We were on the ground in seconds, our bodies twisted together as we fought girl-style, pulling each other's hair and landing punches anywhere we could. To be so petite, Raelyn had some real strength, but she made a mistake of wearing long hair during a fight. I grabbed a fistful of it and yanked it the hardest I could. Raelyn let out a bloody scream. While she was vulnerable, I kicked her off me.

I was tired of her, I was tired of her drama. I was ending this here and now. Suddenly, I was lifting her up off the ground. And I started slamming her back against the wall of lockers. I heard the girls behind me screaming to stop, but I didn't. I just kept doing it over and over, ramming her against the lockers.

Eventually, I felt Musa's hands seize my shoulders and yank me backwards. "You're crazy!" Raelyn screamed at me as her friends gathered around her.

"Says the girl who carried a bag of dog shit to school!" I yelled back. At this point, Musa and Tecna were holding me back and Raelyn's group was struggling to restrain her.

The door swung open and Coach Morgan, our more-masculine-than-feminine fortysomething gym instructor burst into the locker room. "What the hell is going on in here?" she barked.

Our school's well-known tattler, Simone Oxford, was the first one to run to her. "Those two girls were fighting!" she said, pointing between me and Raelyn.

 _Naw!_ You don't say! Two chicks with flushed faces were being held back by their friends, yelling and screaming at each other. _Of course we were fighting._

Morgan's sharp eyes shifted between the two of us. She marched over and grabbed both of our wrists. "You two are going to the principal's office," she said harshly, dragging us toward the exit.

"But—"

"Shut up! No talking," spat the coach, interrupting Raelyn as she drug us outside into the hallway. Students parted for us Red Sea-style as she yanked us toward the administrative wing. On the way there, I happened to catch Raelyn glaring at me that same moment. Her eyes were blazing. I growled at her, just as angry.

Though neither of us said anything, we both knew what was going to come out of this. And it only meant one thing: starting now, we were more than rivals. We were _enemies._ We'd just taken our rivalry to a whole new level (surprisingly, I'd never laid a hand on Raelyn until a few minutes ago), a whole new level of hate.

Raelyn didn't let go of anything, and neither did I. We were never going to get past our fight; we were always going to have a grudge against each other. That was fine with me; I hated her just as much as she hated me. And things were only going to get worse from here. No, our little locker room brawl wasn't the end of anything—only the beginning.

Because from this point forward, we were at war.

* * *

So we both ended up detention.

After my final period, I went over to room one hundred thirty nine to sit in an airy, mayonnaise and Axe-smelling classroom with Raelyn and a grumpy physics teacher. After our hour of eerie silence as up, I waited to leave a few minutes after Raelyn, who bolted the second the teacher gave an okay. Probably to visit Reese, who usually stayed after school in the weight lifting room. But apparently, Raelyn had dropped by my locker first because when I got there to get my phone, I found the words _shit eater_ written in brown permanent marker all over it.

Without a second thought, I found a Sharpie in my locker and I wrote _douche canoe_ across her locker in big capital letters. I scribbled a quick, sloppy heart after it for a mocking effect. Afterward, I grabbed my stuff and headed out.

I turned my phone back on, seeing Bloom had sent me a text ten minutes ago: _Head to_ _HQ when you get out_. I quickly replied, telling her I was on my way.

I caught a cab to 6th Avenue then entered the parking garage of a nondescript building. I spotted Aisha's SUV parked among the other cars toward the back. I entered the elevator and triggered the secret microphone. "Acadia Jones, Code 00975-8708, Group 123-7G5, Sublevel 1." The mike retreated back into its hidden compartment and a scanner swept across my face. Afterward, the elevator sunk down underground.

I entered ALFEA's dark control room, where the Winx and Director Faragonda were already assembled. "How was detention?" smirked Aisha.

"Shut up. I'm surprised _you_ didn't end up there with me."

Faragonda cleared her throat. "Now that you're all here, I'd like to address a serious issue that presented itself just this morning."

"What's wrong? Did you find out what happened to Angelica?" asked Bloom hopefully.

Faragonda shook her head. "I'm afraid not. We…received a mysterious phone call this morning. Just listen for yourself. Palladium."

The professor nodded and pulled up a file on one of the computers. "Just this morning, one of our agents answered a sudden incoming call at around ten thirty. Our system recorded the whole thing. Listen." He played the audio file.

"Hello?" asked a feminine voice through the computer.

"That's the agent who answered," informed Palladium.

"Hello, ALFEA," said an eerie, robotic voice in return, sending a chill down my spine.

"Who's that?" asked Flora lowly.

"We have no idea. We weren't able to locate their position," answered Palladium grimly, "they made sure to secure their end. And there's more to his or her message."

"Who is this?" demanded the female operative, "this is a highly confidential number. How did you receive our contact information?" demanded the operative. One couldn't simply dial up a government organization, especially one as private as ALFEA. Otherwise, prank calls would be an everyday—every _hour_ occurrence. You couldn't just open up a phonebook and obtain ALFEA's number.

"It's come to my attention that you ladies haven't been on your game lately," continued the voice, ignoring the question. "First you lose a weapon, and then you lose an heiress."

"How do you know that? That is classified information."

The voice ignored her again. "Thus, I have decided to lend you a helping hand, push you in the right direction. I know it's every spy's nature to seize an opportunity—just make sure you don't lose it like you have everything else."

"What are you talking about?"

"ALFEA certainly has been in the dark recently. Don't worry, you aren't the only ones. So I thought I'd shed a little light on the situation. Remember our dear friend, Daniel E. Lewis? What has he been up to these days? Oh, wait. You wouldn't know considering you've had absolutely no idea of his whereabouts ever since that little fiasco at his hotel. Speaking of that incident, your best agent was lucky she avoided that bullet. However, will she be able to avoid the next one?"

We all gasped and Faragonda had Palladium pause the recording. "That day at the hotel. Bloom nearly got shot by that black shirt on the other rooftop," recalled Flora.

"And apparently, someone besides us witnessed it," added Tecna thinly.

"But the Trix were there too. They must be behind this message," insisted Aisha, pressing her lips together.

"Or it could be the sniper who got away," argued Musa.

"How about we finish listening to the recording before we jump to conclusions? It's too early to make assumptions" reminded Bloom, her face indifferent although we were discussing her near-death experience.

Palladium nodded and resumed the conversation.

"But to back to the topic at hand, the _real_ reason I contacted you," went on the anonymous caller, "it's no mystery you have no clue where in the world he is. But _I_ do, and I'll pass a little clue of my own over to you. You should be getting an email from me in five, four, three, two, one."

"Ma'am, we have just received an email," reported another agent in the background.

Faragonda gestured for Palladium to pause the recording again. "The email he or she sent us was from a Gmail account," she explained, "we're in the middle of tracing the IP. But in the meantime, let's discuss what was attached in it." She nodded toward an agent operating one of the computers. She did a little bit of typing and a video file appeared on the screen above her.

"A video?" said Aisha, though it sounded more like a question.

"Play it," Faragonda directed the agent.

We all glued our eyes to the screen as the video commenced. It'd been recorded vertically, meaning whoever took it did it from a cell phone. But anyway, the video was of a loud, busy cobblestone street. The person operating the camera was surrounded by a crowd of people and old, historical buildings. Though the people around him or her were all speaking at once, I could make out a few sentences and phrases, all of them in French.

"Okay, so we know this person is in France," announced Stella as if we all hadn't put two and two together yet.

We all ignored her, focusing on the video. The angle changed slightly, focusing on a nearby café. Whoever was recording wouldn't raise the camera so we could see the awning and the name of the café. Instead, they zoomed in a little bit on a group of passersby. Though there was about a dozen people passing by, Lewis stood out the most in his black overcoat. Just as he and everyone else was walking off screen, the video ended.

Faragonda cued Palladium to continue the recorded phone call. "It doesn't take a genius to know our favorite offender of the law is in France. But _where_ in France?" said the voice, "that's for you ladies to figure out. The clock's ticking. You don't have much time. And don't worry, Lewis isn't going anywhere. For now. He's got some sightseeing to do. I heard culture-rich France is beautiful this time of year, but Lewis isn't one to stop and smell the flowers or admire the artwork, now is he? There's _always_ a bigger meaning behind the picture painted for us. Lewis has business to take care of of—and so do you. He's already got his plans framed, and it's time for you do to the same. Try to stay open minded. The answer is right under your nose, you just have to know where to look. I'll be waiting for you in France. You'll be hearing from me again. As they say in France, _au revoir_."

And with that, everything went silent. "It's gotta be the Trix," blurted Aisha.

"It can't be." Musa shook her head. "Remember, Cloud Tower wants Lewis _dead._ If they knew where he was, they wouldn't try to lead us toward him. Instead, they'd take the opportunity to go finish business themselves."

"Maybe it's the thugs who stole Mikhailov's weapon and kidnapped Angelica," I suggested, "we had an inkling they were behind Lewis's disappearance in the first place."

"To be honest, this could be _anyone_ ," pointed out Stella.

"Not just _anyone_ can just email an elite, _secret_ government division, Stella," snapped Aisha, "this is obviously someone who knows what they're doing."

"I didn't even know ALFEA had an email," I mumbled.

"Unless someone leaked ALFEA's information?" considered Bloom, knitting her eyebrows.

"There have been no system breaches." Palladium shook his head. "Not until this morning when our mystery caller decided to contact us."

"For all we know, this is nothing more than a trap," spat Aisha, "our enemies have been known to try to toy with us."

"But you saw that video, Aisha. We _all_ saw our guy walk right across the screen. Even if someone's trying to lure us into a trap, we know for a fact Lewis is in France," argued Tecna, "we have to take this to our advantage and arrest him before someone else gets to him."

"That video doesn't mean anything," insisted Aisha stubbornly, "it could be old. Someone's just trying to send us on a wild goose chase."

"That could be true, but I say we look into this. The fact that the suspect, Lewis, is in France is too important to overlook," said Tecna matter-of-factly. "Our mystery caller made it clear he's scheming something."

"I agree." Faragonda nodded. "With _every_ mission a possibility of failure or fabrication exists. Those are risks are inevitable."

"Right. I'm also with Tecna on this one," agreed Bloom, "we can't ignore the situation. We have no choice but to look into this. Once we have some answers, _then_ we'll make a final decision. But for now, we have our work cut out for us. Whoever that person was expects us to find out where Lewis is _ourselves._ That's not going to be easy and we don't know how much time we have."

At the word _time_ I remembered I was supposed to be home. Mom was expecting me there early before her date showed up. "Guys, I gotta go," I said, taking out my phone and checking the time. "I have to get home before Mom blows a fuse."

Bloom nodded. "Go then. Meanwhile, the rest of us will do a little bit of thinkinh. Be sure to call us whenever you can. We'll need all the brains we can get because we definitely have our work cut out for us."

* * *

With how jittery and restless Mom was, she would've thought she was a descendant of the Energizer bunny. From the couch, Steph and I watched as Mom zipped all around the apartment, rearranging this and fixing that.

Her boyfriend and his kids were going to be here any second, and Mom was having the last minute panics. She wanted everything to be, look _perfect._ She even made us—well, only me—get dressed up. Originally, I'd been wearing a plain white tee and some beat-up jeans, but Mom insisted that I tried to look like a decent teenager for once instead of an underage truck driver. Thus, I dug through Bailey's and I's closest and settled on an oversized sweater, a pair of leggings, and Converse.

No one had questioned why I got home so late, mainly because Mom had been busy fretting over everything detail about our apartment and West had been too busy in his room not giving a fuck. Bailey, on the other hand, had been giving me looks. News about our fight had spread throughout the school like a wildfire, but so far Bailey hadn't mentioned it. But right now, she was out of my hair doing her own hair in the bathroom.

"Mom, calm down," I said, rolling my eyes as Mom started fretting over the dinner table of which she'd set nicely. "It's just a dude and his offspring, not the president and his family."

"You're right, you're right," sighed Mom, her shoulders relaxing. "I don't want them to think I put _too_ much work into everything."

I opened my mouth to say something but the doorbell rang. Mom nearly jumped out of her shoes. "They're here!" she squeaked, rushing over to the door. She swung it open. "Matthew! Hi! Come in, come in." Mom waved her new boyfriend inside.

I took a close look at the stranger now standing in our living room. The first thing I noticed about him was that he _actually looked_ Mom's age. Usually, she went for guys who could either remember watching the news when Ali Mohammed landed himself in prison for refusing to enter the army or had just been speaking their first words when Bill Clinton was inaugurated as president. But this man, he was somewhere in between, _middle aged._ For Mom to even _dare_ bring a man whose aged ranged anywhere from 30 to 49 years into our apartment must've meant she was head over heels for him. Mom _never_ dated guys her age. _"They make me feel old"_ she always claimed (and dating _actual_ old dudes _didn't_?).

But anyway, back to Mom's boyfriend. He was kind of on the tall side with stubble and a head full of thick hair, which was styled in some kind of shaggy cut. He wore thick-framed glasses along with a dark grey sweater, Levi's, and a pair of Converse. He _actually_ looked presentable in a casual way, which was something _else_ unusual when it came to Mom's lovers.

Considering Mom said he was coming over with his family, I half-expected like…three of four kids to wander into our apartment, but no one came in after "Matthew". They probably flaked out the second they found out their dad's girlfriend also had kids. Situations like those were awkward. I would've bailed too.

"Matt, those are two of my girls," said Mom proudly, gesturing toward the couch. "The little one is Stephanie, the older one Acadia. Girls, this is Matthew."

Matt smiled at me and Stephanie, but I didn't even flinch. Steph, on the other hand, slid off the couch and padded over. "Hi, I'm Stephanie," she said innocently, looking up at him with her signature smile. "It's nice to meet you."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Steph might've been blond and only five-years-old, but she wasn't stupid. She knew how to use her cuteness to her advantage—hence the reason practically every one of Mom's past boyfriends had given her gifts and _also_ the reason she had enough stuffed animals to fill the whole clearance bin at Toys R Us. Soon two bins, based off the direction this was headed in.

"Aren't you cute." Matt bent down and pinched Steph's cheek gently.

Mom was about to ask Matt something but the door suddenly opened. The second a person stepped in, I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from swearing like a madman.

Because standing in the doorway was no one but _Raelyn Doughty._

Record scratch.

Our eyes locked at the same time and we both froze, our jaws dropping. My mind was running 10K as I put it all together. My eyes darted to Matthew, to Raelyn, and then to Matthew again. They shared the same heart-shaped face, brown hair, muddy brown eyes. They were splitting images of each other.

The truth hit me like a wrecking ball (cultural pun intended). Matthew and Raelyn were splitting images of each other. They were related _._ They were father and daughter. I was in shock for a moment, but it only took me a few seconds to react.

 _WHAT THE_ _**EFF**_?

"What are _you_ doing here?" Raelyn and I demanded of each other instantly and simultaneously, our hands flying up to point at one another.

Fuck, shit, hell, _fuck._ THIS WAS _NOT_ HAPPENING! My worst, bitchiest enemy was standing in _my_ living room in _my_ house. My worst, bitchiest enemy was staring right at me with a glare that could melt the paint off the walls, in _my_ living room in _my_ house. My worst, bitchiest enemy was the daughter of my mom's boyfriend and we were about to have dinner with them in _my_ living—well, actually the _dining_ —room in _my_ house. My worst, bitchiest—okay, Acadia. They got it. The kill you wanted to drown to death in dog shit had just walked through your front door. And it was about to get a whole lot worse.

At that same moment, Bailey was just deciding to finally emerge from the bathroom. The second she entered the room she stopped short. _"Raelyn?"_ she asked in disbelief, legit stunned. Her eyes darted between us, shocked beyond words.

And then Mom—poor, naïve, sweet, but mostly naïve Mom—swept straight past me, holding out her arms to embrace Raelyn. Raelyn, on the other hand, wasn't having it. She jumped back as if Mom's skin was made of fire ants, afraid any contact would make the ants crawl up her arm and eat her tiny ass alive. (Well, to be honest, I would be crept out too if bonehead I'd never seen before suddenly jumped out of nowhere, ready to pull me into an _Elmo loves you_ -style hug).

"Dad?" Her ogling brown eyes darted over to her dad, a mixture of confusion and true-blue disgust clouding them.

"Raelyn, this is the woman I was telling you about," said Matthew calmly, appearing at my mother's side and draping an arm around her shoulder. (Someone _please_ knock me out with a frying pan. It was just straight up and down _nasty_ to witness my mom and my enemy-from-hell's dad getting all close in a flirtatious way). "Peyton, this is my impossible teenage daughter—" Impossible? More like _dastardly._ "—Raelyn. Raelyn, this is my girlfriend Peyton."

Okay, my world was _literally_ crumbling all around me. Never in a million years would I _ever_ imagine anyone—not even _me_ —introducing one of the people I loved the most to one of the people I hated the worst.

"Oh, Matt. She's so cute," gushed Mom, her eyes twinkling with newfound affection. Raelyn, however, felt differently. She looked Mom up and down and then shot a look at her dad that totally screamed _what Dumpster did you dig her out of?_ Apparently, Mom didn't notice because she proceeded to introduce herself, her voice laced with sweetness. "Hi Raelyn, I'm Peyton. It's so nice to finally have you over. I hope this won't be _too_ weird for you. I know how awkward these situations can be."

UH, FORGET RAELYN. What about ME? If anything, this was the weirdest for _ME,_ mainly because the bitch I could barely sit in the same classroom aswas STANDING IN MY APARTMENT.

"Enough standing around," announced Matt, crossing over into the dining room. "Those quesadillas are calling." From the sound of things, Raelyn hadn't told her father about the fight either. Or at least who'd it been with.

"Yes, of course. West, darling! Time for dinner," called Mom in an almost-singsong, following Matt.

I wrinkled my nose. I was _disgusted_ at how bubbly Mom was. I mean, it was great she was in love and all, but _wasn't_ so great was that she happened to be in love with Raelyn's father. She was _seriously_ in love with him, too. And if she wanted a good relationship with the father, she needed a good relationship with the daughter. And if this was anything like the stupid teen dramas, Mom was going to make it her sole mission to bond with Raelyn, the very girl who'd just called her "fucking crazy" a few hours ago. The very girl who used her daughter's locker as a little doggie waste station just this morning. The very girl I _fought_ in the Teen Spirit-scented locker room at school.

AND HOLD UP. Did Mom just call West _darling?_ There was nothing _darling_ about an unmotivated, paranormally laidback 22-year-old _deadbeat_ who only knew how to sleep, eat, turn on the TV, wipe his ass (hopefully), and open a can of beer. (I mean, he could cook and all but that didn't count since it took an _hour-long_ powernap even for him to pour batter into the waffle maker).

Bailey led Stephanie into the bathroom to help her wash her hands, leaving me and Raelyn in the living room. We stood there for a second, making horrible faces at each other. Some of the anger from earlier sparked back to life inside of me. If our parents weren't here, we'd be going for round two.

Thankfully, my phone chimed in my pocket as a distraction. I dug it out, glowering at Raelyn one last time before checking my newest text.

 _Reese: Are you done being a bitch yet?_

I WAS CURSED. I had to be! First Raelyn shows up at my doorstep, _then_ her he-slut crush, decides to text me when I'm under the same roof as his not-so-secret admirer who'd most likely kill _and_ chomp up the body for him. What a string of shitty luck I had. And what the hell? What did he even mean by this? I hadn't spoken to Reese since Raelyn's party. I ignored his text, slipping my phone back into my pocket as I joined the others.

"Wait, did you say we're having _quesadillas_?" said Raelyn as she sat down across from me, wrinkling her nose as Mom brought in the platter of food. "I can't eat those. Flour has gluten."

Mom's eyes widened. "Oh, honey. I didn't know you were allergic…"

I gave a small snort. Allergic? Hardly. Raelyn was just trying to use that _I'm a cheerleader so I can't eat like a normal human being_ crap to make my mother feel bad about making West quesadillas. And who did Raelyn think she was playing? I saw her down three donuts at lunch today. Her diet only consisted of Reese (ha, she wished), drama, and unadulterated revenge.

Luckily, West came to her rescue. "Don't worry. The tortillas were made with coconut flour, which is naturally gluten free. And if you happen to be allergic to tree nuts too, coconuts are safe for you to eat," he said matter-of-factly, sitting down beside me.

Raelyn pressed her lips together, obviously defeated. Though I was proud of West for shutting Raelyn up, I also hoped there was a slim chance Raelyn _was_ allergic and that the tortillas _were_ laced with gluten. As dark as it sounded, it sounded very satisfying to watch your enemy fall into a coma at your dinner table.

Mom and Matthew (I refused to call him Matt. Sounded too familiarand I WOULD NOT be getting close to Raelyn's father) did most of the talking as Mom served the quesadillas and corn salad. Once everyone was seated and eating, that's when Mom inevitably made an attempt at friendly conversation. "So, Raelyn. This is your last year of high school, right? Have you applied to any colleges?"

Raelyn nodded. "NYU is the college of my dreams, but Universities of Arizona and Connecticut are my safety schools."

I held back another snort. I mean, don't get me wrong—Raelyn was smart as they came; she just didn't show frequently. Or _at all_ —but there was _no way_ she could afford NYU. _No. Way._ Even financial aid and those pitiful paychecks she made at the bar she worked at wouldn't cut it. Lower-middle class like her couldn't afford the tuition, even in her wildest, stupidest dreams. And what did she mean "the college of her dreams?" Everyone knew that college was at the top of her list _only_ because Reese was going there on some kind of basketball scholarship or something. She was trying her hardest to get into that school to be with Reese, to follow him around like a love-sick puppy (and keep him from hooking up with all those college girls). That was it. Outside of that, she had absolutely no interest in the school.

See? Raelyn was already setting herself up for failure. When it came to decisions, even major ones that would forever affect her life, she never thought anything through; all she ever thought about was Reese, Reese, Reese. Not the future— _her future_ , not the consequences, not even herself as her own person. Just Reese, only Reese. That was all that mattered to her. To her, Reese was the way, the truth, _and_ the light.

Mom nodded. "I heard NYU's a really good school, plus it's close to home. I'm sure you'll have no trouble getting in. Speaking of NYU, didn't you apply there too, Acadia?"

 _Busted._

Raelyn's head snapped up, her blazing eyes locking on me. I pretended not to notice. Oh, would she grow the fuck up? It wasn't a sin for me to apply there—thousands did every year. Besides, I had my eyes on that school for my own reasons. I didn't give her or Reese two vanilla shits.

And then just to tick her off, I grinned. "Yeah." Though I couldn't afford NYU either, Stella, being the influential rich kid she was, promised she'd get her dad to pull some strings for me. I know that wasn't fair to everybody else, but I really wanted to go that school—it was actually legit the college of _my_ dreams. I was a city girl through and through and NYU's campus complimented the vibrate city that was Manhattan. Plus Lady Gaga went there so….

My safety schools were Georgia State and U of A, preferably the University of Arizona because I did NOT want to land myself in Georgia again.

"What about you, West?" Matt glanced at West, who was lazily cutting up one of his quesadillas with his weak-ass hands.

Yes! This was my ticket out of this mess! When Matthew found out that West had absolutely _nothing_ going for him, his opinion on our family would probably start changing for the worse—for the better, in my position. No man wanted to tolerate his girlfriend's grown-ass son who only showered once every week or two and planned on surviving on Mommy's little salary. Matthew would be out of the picture in no time. I mean, I knew I said I'd give mom's new boyfriend and his family a chance, but that all went down the drain the second Raelyn's high heels stepped over into my territory.

"West decided to hold off college for now," spoke up Mom quickly, "since I work a lot, West took it upon himself to look after his siblings."

NOOOOO.

Matthew nodded appreciatively. "That sounds very dutiful."

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. WHAT THE _EFF._ SOMETHING WAS SERIOUSLY WRONG HERE.

Mom _never_ made excuses for West's laziness. _Never._ She must've really been aiming to impress _Matthew,_ which wasn't a good thing for me.

Mom gave a worried glance at Raelyn, who'd only picked at her food. "Is everything alright, honey? You don't seem to be eating much. You don't like it?" All of a sudden, I lost my appetite. Mom rarely called _me_ , her own _daughter_ ,"honey." Now she was address a girl she didn't even know—who was also my ENEMY. Can't stress that enough, people!—as such? That was sickening.

Raelyn made a face. She was probably disgusted to be seated at the table with "the shit eater" and her "equally disturbed" family, although she knew that was complete bullshit considering _she_ made that crap up.

Matt— _Matthew_ rolled his eyes. "The quesadillas taste great. Raelyn's just being picky. You know how cheerleaders are." Uh, _picky_? Did I not just mention how I witnessed Raelyn stuffing her face with three donuts earlier? That didn't sound _picky_ to me.

Mom's eyes brightened up. "You're a cheerleader? So is Bailey."

"Actually, she'd captain of Victory's varsity squad," piped up Bailey, giving Raelyn a small grin. I wanted to stab Bailey's hand with my fork. WHAT WAS SHE DOING? Was she _trying_ to get friendly with Raelyn? Didn't she hear about the fight between her precious captain and sister? WAS SHE TAKING RAELYN'S SIDE?

"You attend the same school as Bailey and Acadia?" Mom looked delightfully surprised. "That's great! You should start coming over. You're in the same grade as Acadia, right? You two could be friends."

HELL NO. _Friends_ shouldn't even stand in the same sentence as _Acadia_ and _Raelyn._ Besides, going to school with Raelyn was one thing, having her in my m-effing apartment was a whole other. I started praying under my breath. _Please, Lord. I know I haven't prayed in a long time, but PLEASE don't let Raelyn ever come back here. I'll take any other punishment._

The rest of dinner passed by kind of quickly. The adults (West not included. I didn't classify him as an adult) did the most of the talking, while the rest of her kids ate. The only time Raelyn spoke afterward was when Bailey helped herself to seconds. "Careful, Bailey. Remember, our new uniforms will include crop tops. You wouldn't want anything _hanging_ out of it, would you?" she had said in a tauntingly sweet voice. Bailey's face had gone red and she gave her food to West.

After the main course, we cleared off the table and waited for Mom to bring out the dessert. While Matthew assisted Mom in the kitchen, the rest of us kids stayed at the table. Stephanie was talking to Bailey about some episode the _Dora the Explorer_ (apparently, she had a crush on Boots) she'd seen recently, West was staring off into space again and meanwhile, me and Raelyn were having a glare off again. My phone chimed once more, and I checked my new message. Reese, _again._

 _Reese:_ _You know you're my wifey, right? ;)_

Phony. I wasn't his "wifey" back when Raelyn was bitching at me the night of her party. Reese was faker than my mom's Prada tote. I felt Raelyn shooting eye daggers at me. Did she suspect I was talking to Reese? Eh, I didn't care. Maybe I would keep at it just to piss her off even more.

"Who're you texting?" she asked at last, her voice icy thin.

The corners of my lips curled into a faint smirk. "Reese," I said casually, looking back down at my phone like I was engrossed in my convo with the man slut. Speaking of Reese, I sent him a quick text: _Stfu._

Raelyn glowered at me the whole time we ate dessert. Her anger was radiating off her. She was jealous, and for what? She talked to Reese every chance she got. Territorial much? Well, so was I.

After we got done eating, Matthew wanted everyone to sit around and talk like some kind of family night, but Ray put her foot down on that one. "We should go," she said quickly, "I have a lot of homework to do."

"Really? But it's just the beginning of the year." Matthew sounded surprised. Ray shot him a hard look. "Okay, okay. Thanks so much for dinner, Pey. It was amazing."

Mom beamed. "It's no problem. Let's do this more often."

NO. LET'S NOT.

Raelyn gave me one last cold stare before following her dad out of the door. Even when the door closed behind them I didn't feel relived. This was so screwed up. Matthew and Mom were obviously serious about each other, meaning Ray and I would be seeing a whole lot more of each other. And I knew darn well their relationship wasn't going to make anything change between me and Raelyn. While our parents loved each other, their children _detested_ one another. That much was set in stone. Like it or not, Raelyn and I were about to get a whole lot closer.

 _It sucked._

I thought about that saying: _"Keep your friends close and you're enemies closer."_ Well, it didn't look like I had much of a choice, did it?


	8. A Case Cracked

**.,A/n: WOW!** _ **WOW**_ **Season 2 is** _ **retarded**_ **! Okay, so my first big issue with the season is that Aisha's voice is different. I loved her voice in the first second. It made her sound like a true tough girl, but now? Ugh….**

 **Secondly, why the HELL are the Winx wearing coats over their spy catsuits? That's** _ **stupid.**_ **The tails are super long too, like, that makes no sense. What if you're running on a rooftop but you trip over the coat and fall off the roof, busting your ass on something?**

 **Thirdly, Tinkerbell is one sick puppy. I actually didn't mind it as much, though. I agree with Nixa: she** _ **was**_ **a good villainess—maybe I'll add her in this story. But the thing that irked me out was that Tink fell in love with both a father** _ **and**_ **son. If you ask me, that's kinda dark for a kid's show (but then again, there was Evans and her dirty mouth…). Actually, now that I think about it, Tinkerbell IS good material for this story. She'll just be a spy, but still an enemy to all. I need to revive my brainstorming cells…**

* * *

Man, Aisha's place was the GOAT!

I remembered this just as the elevator opened to the circular marble foyer of the Andros's Park Avenue penthouse. It'd been so long since I'd last been here, I'd nearly forgotten just how dope this place was.

Sure, Aisha's place was smaller than Stella's, but I'd choose Aisha's family's luxury spread ANY day. The whole 13,000 square feet ( _not_ counting the additional 5000 square feet from the rooftop garden/pool and wraparound terraces) was taken up by an impressive solarium-style gourmet chef's kitchen, 8 spacious bedrooms, 10 marble-clad bathrooms, a dramatic marble gallery(it's my theory that all rich folk had a marble fetish), library, fully equipped media room, climate-controlled wine cellar, dining room with bar/butler's pantry, two laundry rooms, staffroom for the personal chef, maid, housekeeper, and gardener that lived with them, and a freakin' _gym_ , all complete with recessed lighting, skylights, tall ceilings and windows that gave breathtaking views of the city, mahogany doors, and floors polished so well you could see your reflection in them. You _legit_ had to have a pretty solid bank account to own a pad as sweet as this.

"This place is _sick_ ," Musa muttered under her breath as she, Tecna, and I emerged from the elevator and stepped into the foyer, greeted by the sparkling fountain. It was the next day and the three of us had traveled here via subway right after school. We'd gotten out later than the other Winx since Tecna had a computer club meeting to go to, Musa choir rehearsal, and me, of course, detention because of that fight Raelyn and I had yesterday. And speaking of Raelyn, neither of us had bothered mention our parents' date to any of our friends. I knew she, like I, was hoping our parents weren't actually serious about a relationship and that this situation would blow over quickly. That way, we could both go on with our _separate_ lives and pretend like nothing ever happened.

"You're telling me," I smirked, "this place is at _least_ ten times the size of my apartment."

Just then, the family's well-groomed golden retriever came running around a corner, barking playfully at us. "Castaway!" exclaimed Musa, bending down to give the dog a big hug.

After receiving a few sloppy dog kisses, we ended up coming across Niobe, Aisha's mom. With long, curly-wavy mahogany-brown hair, blue eyes, and brown skin, she was nearly Aisha's twin—just at least 20 years older. Not that Mrs. Andros _looked_ old—she didn't look a day over 35 (but considering Aisha wasn't allowed to say how old her mother was, Mrs. Andros had to be pretty old). In fact, now that I thought about it, _no_ adult in Aisha's family looked their age. I mean, I guess that shouldn't have been a surprise considering exercise was the Andros family's religion. The whole family was all about fitness; they all probably came straight out of the womb doing squats. According to Stella, any male Andros who didn't have a six pack by the age sixteen got disowned. That sounded like an exaggeration to me but then again, I'd met one of Aisha's little cousins before and he was basically a mini Hercules at age ten, so…

After Mrs. Andros enthused about how tall, beautiful, and womanly we'd become and left for one of her rich-lady Zumba classes, the three of us (four, counting Castaway) padded into the bedroom wing.

We entered Aisha's impressive room to find the rest of the Winx. Bloom was sitting on the chaise by the fireplace while sketching in her notepad, Stella was sitting on Aisha's bed doing something on her phone, and Flora was talking—yes, _talking_ to the potted plant in the corner. We were all here for a reason; to address and figure out the troubling, anonymous call ALFEA received yesterday.

"Okay, they're here. Let's get started," announced Aisha anxiously, rising from the edge of her bed.

"Hello to you too," said Musa teasingly, dropping her bag onto the wide-plank, dark Brazilian cherry hardwood.

Tecna sat down at Aisha's desk, taking her Apple laptop out of her neon-green bag. "We shouldn't bother ourselves with niceties anyway," she said, starting it up. "We have more serious things to think about. Besides, we see each other every day."

"Well, there's one girl we don't see every day," reminded Bloom, taking a glance at her phone. "And it's about time we dial her up."

Tecna nodded as her laptop opened to her homepage. "Right. I'm on it." As she logged into the video messenger, Aisha ushered Castaway out of her room and shut the door. What we were about to discuss was highly confidential information; not even doggy ears were allowed to listen in.

We all gathered around the desk as Tecna clicked on her only online contact (Tecna didn't have a lot of friends…), launching a video call in a new window. Within the frame was a live scene of a girl's bedroom; the walls were plastered with "be kind to animals" posters, butterfly patterns were sewn into the fitted bedspread, and about a dozen stuffed bunnies and monkeys. Upon first glance, you could definitely tell whoever owned the room was a hardcore animal lover.

We stared at the screen for a few moments, expecting someone to appear onscreen. But when no one showed up, Bloom finally called out, "Roxy? Are you there?"

"Yeah," a muffled voice in the background called, "just feeding the cats. Give me a second…" A lot of rustling and meowing drowned out the rest of her words. We all just stood there, waiting. Eventually, our pinkette friend plopped down in her chair in front of her computer's camera. "Okay, sorry about that," she said apologetically. This was Roxy, the eighth and final member of the Winx, her codename being Pink Panther ( _Black_ Panther was kinda already taken. Besides, Pink Panther sounded way better since Roxy had that pink hair and all). Though Roxy was just as important of an asset as everyone else, she barely came with us on assignments since she and her dad lived down on Covey Island in Brooklyn where Roxy's dad owned a juice bar. She worked there a lot when she wasn't in school, so we didn't see her that often in person. But that never stopped her from assisting us with our spy work. "So what's going on?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Bloom sighed. "It's all a long story. Where do we even begin? Remember how that man, Daniel E. Lewis disappeared last week?" Being the leader, Bloom regularly kept Roxy up-to-date on our recent missions.

Roxy nodded. "You guys found him?"

Bloom pressed her lips together. " _We_ didn't, but someone else has. Or we think so, at least. Yesterday morning, the guys at ALFEA got an anonymous call from a source they can't track—"

"We're calling him or her Tip," interrupted Stella, "ya know. Since they tipped us off."

"Yes. _Tip_ contacted ALFEA yesterday with some news about Lewis," continued Bloom, frowning at Stella for a second before turning back to face Tecna's computer. "They left a message and sent an email. Tecna, could you play the recording for her?"

"Sure." Tecna was already pulling up the audio file Professor Palladium had given her permission to download. Silence fell over the room as Tecna played the recording for Roxy.

"Whoa. This person sounds pretty serious," said Roxy gravely after the playback ended. "And you said ALFEA doesn't know how sent that?"

Bloom shook her head. "They tried to trace the call, but the other line was highly encrypted. The director told us they'd keep trying and promised to keep us up to date. So far, we haven't heard anything which means they unfortunately haven't had any luck."

"Well, 'Tip' mentioned an email being a little 'clue'. It contained the video you talked about earlier?"

"Yes, and I'm sending it over to your email right now," informed Tecna, her fingers flying across her keyboard. She punched the ENTER key and we heard a ding on Roxy's end two seconds later.

"Got it," confirmed Roxy. We heard her click to open up the file. The following minute and a half was silent as Roxy watched the video on her end; we could hear the audio from it on ours. "So Lewis is in France, like Tip said" she said, her voice and face indifferent as the video ended. "That wasn't much of a clue, if you ask me. Knowing what country he's in isn't helpful in the slightest, not unless we have a more specific location. And it doesn't help whoever filmed purposely chose not to capture too much of their surroundings. If otherwise, we just could've gotten the name of the nearby venues and businesses, googled them, and found out _exactly_ where Lewis was that day."

"That's the point. The purpose of the video wasn't to give us a direct answer, but to help guide us _toward_ it," said Tecna, turning around in her chair to face us. "Tip—or _whoever_ filmed that video did it that way for a reason. They don't want the answer to be obvious. They're _testing_ us. They want us to use our brains and resources to figure this out for ourselves."

"Testing us? Testing us for _what_?" Aisha put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow challengingly. "We don't even know if this is legit. The video could've been taken _years_ ago. For all everyone knows, Lewis could be somewhere in Asia or something. Or he could be _dead._ Besides, if ALFEA doesn't know of his whereabouts, I highly doubt no one else does. And if, by chance, someone does then they have to be in the same level of field as us. There are lots of government organizations in the world, but my suspicions are with Cloud Tower. The Trix are our direct enemies; they'll do anything to take advantage of us."

"So you're saying someone is aiming to set us up?" asked Tecna in disbelief. "Highly unlikely."

"What would the Trix have to gain from sending us a useless video?" Flora asked Aisha before she and Tecna could get into an argument.

"Easy. Like I said yesterday: They're just trying to send us on a wild goose chase, mess with our minds," insisted Aisha, "we all know they play dirty tricks."

"But that doesn't make sense," I protested, taking a seat on the floor. "Okay, so let's say the Trix really _are_ behind this. If they really wanted to lure us into a trap in France, wouldn't they make it easy for us? Why give us a bullshit mystery to solve when they could just tell us where to go and get our asses to France faster?"

Aisha pressed her lips together. "Maybe they want to give us a headache," she said stubbornly.

"I already _have_ a headache," I countered.

"I agree with what Acadia is saying," said Tecna, "if the Trix do happen to have some kind of trap set up for us in Europe, why try to lure us in the hard way? If anything, they'd be _desperate_ to lead us to our doom as soon as possible."

"Yeah. Why would they waste their time like that when they could be off putting a gun to someone else's head?" snorted Stella, "since that's all they seem to know how to do."

"They have a point on this one, Aisha," said Flora softly, "I know you're just being cautious and protective but this is our _only_ lead on Lewis. You could be right about this; maybe this _is_ a setup. But we can't just _not_ look into this issue."

Musa, who had pulled a chair beside Tecna's, crossed her legs and snapped her gum. "We shouldn't be focused on who sent the information, but the problem revolving around it: _Lewis_ ," she said calmly, a cool expression stretching across her face. "And let's just face the facts, ladies. Our target, Daniel E. Lewis, is one hell of a crook. He's crafty, he's sneaky. Why do you think Cloud Tower and everyone else is after him? Lewis is like the main mean girl; the one who's got dirt on _everyone_ and uses what he knows to his advantage, to keep himself at the top of the game. What Lewis knows can lead to some serious damage for whoever he targets, ALFEA included. A bastard like that is too dangerous to just leave lurking around in the streets. And if we aren't the ones to catch him, we just might be the ones to suffer the consequences. Lewis knows how to get himself out of any situation—and one of his best methods is leaking classified intel. If some other organization, say Cloud Tower, was to corner him, to save his ass all he'd have to do is give them valuable, _deadly_ information about their enemy— _us._ We don't know what Lewis knows about ALFEA. If the Trix somehow do manage to get their hands on him, Lewis could tell them top-secret info about ALFEA to save himself. Info that could lead to our _demise_ , and vice versa. The Trix want him dead, so it's obvious he's got some serious stuff on them. If we happened to take him into custody, we could squeeze him dry and use that information to take down Cloud Tower once and for all."

We all took a quick second to let Musa's paragraph and a half and the reality of her words sink into our minds. She had a rock-solid point, and we all knew it. Lewis was a threat whether he was a free man or not. "My thoughts exactly." Tecna nodded appreciatively. "To summarize things, this is an opportunity we cannot afford to pass up."

"I guess," muttered Aisha, the corners of her lips pulling into a slight scowl.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean Aisha's wrong," said Bloom thoughtfully, "we all know how the Trix play and it's anything but right. They, or whoever got in touch with ALFEA yesterday could be aiming to mislead us. It's like Director Faragonda said: With _every_ mission a possibility of failure or fabrication exists. No matter what operation we're sent to complete, there's always a strong chance foul play from our enemies could endanger our success. That reality is just simply unavoidable. But we _can_ handle this situation with extreme vigilance. We'll take it one step at a time. If we can miraculously solve this puzzle, we'll figure out how to proceed later on."

The rest of us nodded in agreement. It made no sense in trying to work everything out at once when we didn't even have an understanding of everything else that came along with it.

"Okay, so let's get to work," announced Bloom, clapping her hands. "Our first agenda is to decipher Tip's mysterious message. He or she expects us to pinpoint Lewis's position ourselves by using the information they provided, which is only a ninety second-long video. Tecna, will you play it for us again?"

"For that to be our only clue, it sure isn't that much," commented Musa, after re-watched it. "The only thing we mostly saw was just people. What conclusions are we supposed to draw from that?"

"Well, I did notice one thing," said Bloom, "those old buildings in the background?" Tecna replayed the video and paused on the split second when the camera focused on the buildings in the background. "That's old Parisian architecture, modeled after the Italian Renaissance back in the 16th century," explained Bloom, "by the looks of them, they're probably apartments since all the symmetrical facades are made of stone and have a _pigeon—_ "

"Wait! Did you just say _pigeon?_ " interjected Stella, confused. "Like the bird?"

"What? No, Stella." Bloom gave a light laugh. "A _pigeon_ is just a gabled roof. I learned it last year in my AP World Art class during our unit on France."

"So you're saying this video was taken in Paris?" asked Flora.

Bloom nodded. "Without a doubt. There's no other style like the Parisian one."

"Okay, good. So at least we have a general idea of where in France Lewis is," said Roxy, "this is a good start. We're taking the first steps in the right direction."

Tecna resumed the video. "That was a good observation on Bloom's part, but I do not see anything else that could serve as a general clue. This just looks like a usual street in Paris. What other assumptions could we make?"

We all shrugged. "Uh, those girls in the background were carrying shopping bags with the Chanel logo on them," said Stella, "so we know a Chanel store's _definitely_ nearby."

Everyone ignored her. "There are twenty arrondissements of Paris," said Tecna, opening another tab and pulling up a convenient map of Paris. "That street could literally be anywhere."

"Let's watch it one more time," I suggested, "we might be missing something." We actually ended up watching it _six_ more times, but we still didn't get anywhere.

"Ugh, I hate it when we have to solve these kinds of mysteries," groaned Musa, "we're _spies_ , not detectives."

"I'm not sure even a detective could figure this out," said Tecna grimly, "there aren't enough clues to base a proper inference."

 _Whaaaaaaaa!_

We all startled by the sudden, unexpected noise. We all whirled around to look at Stella, who was playing a game on her phone on her lap. "What are you doing?" demanded Aisha.

"Uh, playing _Angry Birds_?"

"Stella, we're _supposed_ to be focusing on the task at hand," said Bloom, her voice kinda high with annoyance. " _Not_ playing games on our phones."

"What? _Angry Birds_ helps me think." Stella made a face before looking back down at her game.

Aisha sighed. "At least turn off the sound effects."

"Guys, I don't think it's the video we should be so worried about," said Musa slowly as Stella muted her game, "that's not all Tip gave us. We also have their message, remember?"

"Yeah, so?" I snorted, "what's that supposed to do for us? All Tip did was just taunt us, basically. They really didn't say anything of importance."

"Not _directly_. Maybe there's more to it then we realize. Tecna, will you play the audio again?" requested Musa, "specifically the last part."

Immediately, Tip's robotic voice blared from Tecna's computer: _"It doesn't take a genius to know our favorite offender of the law is in France. But_ _where_ _in France?" said the voice, "that's for you ladies to figure out. The clock's ticking. You don't have much time. And don't worry, Lewis isn't going anywhere. For now. He's got some sightseeing to do. I heard culture-rich France is beautiful this time of year, but Lewis isn't one to stop and smell the flowers or admire the artwork, now is he? There's_ _always_ _a bigger meaning behind the picture painted for us. Lewis has business to take care of of—and so do you. He's already got his plans framed, and it's time for you do to the same. Try to stay open minded. The answer is right under your nose, you just have to know where to look. I'll be waiting for you in France. You'll be hearing from me again. As they say in France,_ _au revoir_ _."_

"See? 'The answer is right under your nose.' We're overlooking something," said Musa, her voice laced with slight irritation.

"Yes, but _what_? I've replayed the video over and over again, but nothing clicks," frowned Tecna, just as annoyed.

"Because it's not the video!" insisted Musa.

"I think I see what Musa's saying," said Flora slowly, "perhaps the clues are in Tip's call, not their video. Like some kind of message within a message. And we just have to decode it somehow."

"That's exactly what I was trying to say." Musa gave Flora a small smile. "Maybe it's about time we read in between the lines."

The rest of us exchanged unsure glances. "It's worth a shot," shrugged Bloom, "we don't have any other option, really. Because when you think about it, the video itself is not very helpful."

"Right," nodded Flora, "it's only purpose was probably to prove Lewis was in France, nothing more and nothing less. It was just good fortune Bloom has an eye for artwork and architecture and was able to use her knowledge of the two to help narrow our search. By the way, that was a really good call, Bloom."

Bloom blushed. "Thanks."

"Flora and Musa could be on to something," I admitted, "because, let's face it. Replaying the video over and over again ain't doing shit. Let's listen to the call again."

Tecna didn't look convinced, but she replayed the recording anyway. No one said anything but concentrated on the audio instead, listening closely for anything that could possibly _mean_ anything.

"I don't understand" said Stella once it was over, still playing on her phone. "That just sounded like your creepy everyday stalker call to me. I mean, seriously. How do they even know we were involved with Mikhailov? Or what happened in Lewis's hotel? Whoever this guy is _clearly_ did his homework."

"Or _she_ happens to be someone who was already there with us," corrected Aisha, "like the _Trix._ " Aisha was obviously sticking with her Cloud Tower theory.

"Yeah, but he _or_ she knows we were at Angelica's party to prevent her kidnapping," pointed out Musa, "the Trix weren't there for that. We scanned the crowd a dozen times over, and girls like them are pretty hard to miss."

"Maybe there weren't _in_ the party, but they could've been _at_ it," argued Aisha, "has anyone considered the possibility that it was _Cloud Tower_ who kidnapped Takashima?"

"Focus, ladies." Bloom snapped her fingers, catching everyone's attention. "Let's focus on the Lewis situation. Our only concern is figuring out where he is. We can point fingers later."

"Part of me _still_ thinks this is just a wasted effort, though" snorted Aisha. "Okay, so what if we _do_ figure out where Lewis is? What then? He's probably on the move, meaning he's not going to stay in one place for long, especially if he figures how someone is on to him. Us finding out his location isn't going to do us any good if he's constantly switching hiding places."

"I don't think they're trying to lead us to Lewis in that sense," spoke up Roxy (whoa, her voice nearly scared me! I almost forgot we were still videoing chatting), leaning back in her chair, away from her computer screen. "Maybe Tip's not leading us to Lewis directly, but _in_ directly. Like, they're trying to guide us somewhere not where Lewis is now but where he _will_ be in the _future_. Think about it. There's gotta be a reason Lewis is even in Paris in the first place."

"Maybe he's there for a bad-guy convention," half-joked Stella.

"Possibly. But whatever it is, our mystery man or woman is definitely trying to point us there. "Remember when they said 'the clock is ticking' and 'you don't have much time?' and 'Lewis has business to take care of?' What if that means the clock is counting down until something _big_ happens in Paris? Something Lewis is a part of?"asked Roxy.

"Huh?" Stella, who obviously didn't understand, wrinkled her nose.

"Let's say there's a big, secret murder plot floating around over in Paris," suggested Roxy, "a murder plot Lewis has a part in. What if our anonymous tip knows about it and has made it their mission to take us to the place the murder will take place so we can prevent it?"

" _Oh. Now_ I get it."

"Me too. Ti mentioned that Lewis wasn't going anywhere," I recalled, "that must mean he's waiting for something to happen and Tip wants to show us _where_ that something _will_ happen."

"Exactly!" exclaimed Roxy.

"Good observations," applauded Bloom, " _now_ we're getting somewhere. It's just like Flora said: Tip left us a message inside a message. Now all we have to do is interpret it."

Suddenly, Musa perked up. "If that's the case, Tip said that Lewis had 'some sightseeing to do', hence the reason he's not leaving France right away. He's taking his time there, but why? Could he be on a scavenger hunt for something?"

Tecna licked her lips. "It's possible. But how I see it, by 'sightseeing', Tip means Lewis is taking a trip somewhere in particular. Actually, that could add on to your theory. He's taking a trip some _where_ in search of some _thing_. That doesn't answer much though…"

"You're wrong, Tecna. You and Musa both made great points. Points I think are actually _on_ point," I said defensively, "he could be looking for something to _steal._ Lewis has a long-ass criminal record, remember? Back in the 90s, he and his crew pulled off a lot of robberies in Europe. Sure, he might not have committed any recent ones, but once a thief always a thief, right? Besides, this is _Paris_ we're talking about. All crooks want to get their hands on something valuable and when you think about it, Paris is _full_ of stuff like that. Jewels, books, paintings—"

"That's it!" blurted Stella suddenly, her head snapping up from her phone. "I got it!"

"That isn't a good sign," sighed Aisha.

"Just hear me out," said Stella excitedly, setting her phone down and standing up from Aisha's bed. "It all makes sense if you think about it."

"You think?" I joked.

Stella ignored me. "This might sound crazy, but I think Tip is trying to lead us to a museum."

"How do you figure?" Flora cocked her head curiously.

"They made so many references," went on Stella, uncharacteristically serious. "We already guessed that Lewis is going somewhere when Tip said he had some sightseeing to do. _Sightseeing._ When tourists come to sightsee in France, what are some of the country's main attractions they want to visit? _Museums_ , since Paris is famous for them. Tip also mentioned how Lewis had a main objective and didn't have time to stop and admire the _artwork_ in _culture-rich_ Paris. What contains artwork from cultures all over the globe? _Museums_."

"Or an art gallery," piped up Bloom.

"Same thing."

"Actually, there's a difference…"

Stella ignored her too.

Aisha was about to say something as well, but Musa shushed her. "Stella's on a roll," she whispered excitedly.

"The hints don't stop there, either," continued Stella, "'there's _always_ a bigger meaning behind the picture painted for us', Tip said. Pay attention to the last part. There they go again with that art reference. And then they made another: 'He's already got his plans framed.' _Framed._ What has a frame? _Paintings_ do. What kind of _artwork_ paints a picture? _Paintings_ do. And where are paintings kept?"

"Museums!" the rest of us exclaimed. "Or an art gallery," Bloom quickly added.

"Stella! I think you got it!" cried out Roxy. We all echoed our agreements.

Stella smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I told you _Angry Birds_ helps me think."

"Yeah, but you do realize there are _dozens_ of museums— _and_ art galleries in Paris, right? We could be talking about either one of them," pointed out Aisha.

"Aisha is correct. It will still be difficult for us to find out which one," said Tecna.

"'The answer is right under your nose, you just have to know where to look,'" quoted Stella, "which means wherever the answer is has to be someplace _so_ obvious we'd never think to look."

"The library? Could the answer be there?" asked Flora, uncertain. "It's full of information and maybe Tip left another clue there."

"I doubt it. Let's be real: who _really_ uses the library nowadays?" I rolled my eyes.

"How about the internet?" suggested Aisha, "that's what most people turn to when they need to know something."

"Yeah, but it's not like we can just ask Google which museum he's supposed to show up at," I said.

"How about we stick to something simpler and just Google museums in Paris?" offered Bloom, "and see where that gets up."

"If you say so." Tecna pulled up Google and typed in "museums in Pair." A millisecond later, Google gave us a few million search results and a list of the most popular French museums."

"Scroll down," directed Stella, peering over Tecna's shoulder at the screen. Tecna obeyed and scrolled further down the page to the Top Stories. "Click on that one," instructed Stella, pointing to an updated story about a new museum opening up in Paris. Tecna clicked the website and it brought us to an article written in French.

Tecna quickly read over the article and summarized it to us in English. "Musée de Alphonse is a new art museum opening in the outskirts of Paris. The grand opening will be on Saturday night at 8pm Central European Time. It's dedicated to AlphonseDestroismaisons, a French artist from the later 1800s."

"I learned about him in my art class last year," said Bloom, "he was considered of the best artists of that time."

Tecna nodded and continued. "The villa he used to reside in has been converted into the museum in his honor and will display his wide range of artwork, along with his original sculpture garden."

Musa gasped. "Tip assured that Lewis wasn't going to stop and smell the flowers. Could they be talking about that garden?"

" _Lots_ of museums have gardens," pointed out Aisha.

"The main attraction will be the unveiling of one of Destroismaisons's long lost paintings that has just recently been discovered," proceeded Tecna, "it's called _Open Minded_."

"That's it!" shouted Stella. "What was some of Tip's last words to us? Try to stay _open-minded!_ They were hinting at the painting in the new museum! They want us to go to Musée de Alphonse!"

"That's also why they said we didn't have much time; because it opens in less than a week from now," added Flora.

"Meaning Lewis is probably going to be there during the grand opening. We have to be there!" said Bloom, determined.

Something on Tecna's computer beeped. "It's Naoki," she announced, "he's requesting a group video chat." She accepted his call and her screen divided into two halves; Roxy on one side, Naoki on the other.

"Hey everyone!" Naoki waved at us. "Oh, hi Roxy!"

"Hi Naoki!" the rest of us chorused. "What's up?" asked Bloom.

"Okay, so I've been searching YouTube for the past hour or two," he informed excitedly, "and I think I found a video that will confirm you girls' conclusion about that run-away criminal in Paris—"

"Wait, how do you know about that?" interrupted Bloom, folding her arms across her chest and creasing her forehead. "We haven't told anyone, besides Roxy, about it."

Naoki blushed. "I might've been listening to you girls' conversation..."

"Through my laptop, in which gained access to when I downloaded Professor Palladium's files from ALFEA's main network," said Tecna, clicking her tongue. "Ha. I suspected you hacked me. And I'm not the only one, huh? You only got to my computer because I momentarily connected it to the ones at ALFEA, ones you've already hacked your way into."

"Wait. _What?_ " Aisha was confused. "Naoki hacked ALFEA? How? When? Just yesterday, the professor said they didn't have any system breeches."

"Hehe. I might've snuck my way in a few weeks ago," said Naoki, obviously proud of himself. "And encrypted myself with their own software so they can never detect me."

Tecna gave a soft laugh. "Clever."

"Anyway, what was it you were calling about?" asked Bloom.

"Oh, right. I'm sending you girls a video I found on YouTube yesterday," he reported, clicking his mouse. "This is the last bit of proof you'll need to bring this case to a close."

"I just got your email. Thanks," said Tecna, clicking the link Naoki had attached in his email to her. It brought her to YouTube, where a video started to play. It opened to a familiar scene; the crowded Paris street from Tip's video, except recorded at a better angle with a higher quality. The camera turned to the left, pointing at a ground of passersby, one of them black-clad Lewis.

"This was taken the same time as the other one!" said Flora.

Whoever was behind the camera raised it up, revealing the rest of the cafe Lewis had just walked past. Tecna smashed the pause button the second the awning appeared onscreen. "Café de Pétale," she read aloud. She didn't waste any time in pulling up an online map. She entered that same cafe into the search box and it took her straight to a street on the outskirts of Paris. "Based on the address, the cafe isn't that far away from Musée de Alphonse," she informed, "actually, the two are quite close."

"So there's no way that's a coincidence," insisted Musa, "Lewis is hanging around that area because he's waiting on the museum to open. Something's going to happen there for sure."

"And we'll be there to stop whatever it is. That's a case closed. Good work, girls," grinned Bloom.

While the others celebrated our success, the buzzer in the foyer went off. "That must be Nereus," said Aisha, delighted. "C'mon, Acadia."

"What?" I blinked. Next thing I knew, Aisha was grabbing my wrist and dragging me out of the room. "What the hell are you up to?" I snapped after Aisha buzzed Nereus in.

Aisha gave me an innocent look. "Nothing." Just then, the elevator dinged and Aisha's cousin stepped out. He was just as I remembered him from Angelica's party with long past-the-shoulders hair and eyes just like Aisha's. Except today, he was dressed way more casual in a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain well-worn tee, in which his muscles peeked out from under. I stole a glance at his chest. Jesus, he was fit. But then again, I guess he wouldn't be an Andros if he wasn't.

Aisha caught me staring and she smirked to herself, pleased. Oh. OH. _OH._ Aisha thought she was _so_ clever. I saw what was going on.

"Nereus! I'm glad you could make it." Aisha wrapped her cousin in a quick hug. "You remember Acadia Jones, right?"

"Hi," I said shortly.

Nereus smiled warmly at me. I didn't smile back.

"Say, Nereus. Do you still have those tickets to that upcoming Broadway musical in two weeks?" asked Aisha, the corners of her lips tugging up into a sly smile as she lead Nereus into the kitchen. Following them, I sent her a fierce _shut the hell up_ glare. Aisha pretended not to notice.

"Oh, yeah. Did you want them? I wasn't playing on going anyway."

"Well, Acadia told me she really wanted to go," said Aisha, sitting down at the counter. What the…? I _never_ talked about going to a Broadway show in my _life_ , and Aisha knew that. I couldn't believe how casually she told that lie. "She's never been to Broadway before. I would've bought her a ticket, but you know how they sell out quick. Your mom is acquainted with a lot of the higher-ups there, so I know she always gets the hookup."

Sigh. The benefits of being rich.

"I'd love to take her, but it's on a Saturday and I'm busy that night," went on Aisha. _Another_ lie! Aisha didn't do shit on Saturdays. _Shit._ "So I was hoping you'd go with her if you're not too busy…"

DAMN IT, AISHA. I would've protested but one did that simply defy Aisha or she'd make you pay, specifically by beating your ass. By the way Nereus brightened up, I knew I was legit screwed. "I'd love to," he said, his eyes twinkling.

FUCK. I sent Aisha a super mean look, but she just countered with a _you'll thank me later_ smirk. She even went as far as giving him my number. Yes, my _number._ Once that was out of the way, Aisha sprung into a whole other conversation as if she totally just arranged a date between her cousin and best friend.

Ugh. First, my mom starts dating my school enemy's father and now my friend is trying to hook me up with her cousin against my will.

FML.


	9. Fiasco in France, Part 1

"France has too many roundabouts," muttered Aisha, navigating the SUV around another fountain-dominated roundabout.

"You wouldn't be complaining if just would've let me hire a driver," said Stella, who was seated in the passenger seat, matter-of-factly.

"No way. Last time you did that, the driver tried to shoot us," reminded Aisha with a snort at the memory, "and let's not forget that time in England."

"How was I supposed to know he was part of a prostitute ring?" snapped Stella.

It was Saturday morning and the whole Winx squad—Roxy included—was in the spacious SUV Stella rented as we cruised around the beautiful city of Paris, France. As soon as school let out on Friday afternoon, Stella had a driver pick up Roxy from Coney Island and we used her dad's private airstrip to fly over to Paris. We were staying over at a fancy hotel Stella had made reservations to earlier in the week. And, of course, our parents had no idea where we were. We all told them we'd be staying at one of the Solarias' upstate retreats, and they totally bought it. Roxy's dad even gave her the weekend off from the juice bar. I think my mom was more than happy to be getting me out of the apartment, probably so she could have _Matthew_ over again. I wasn't worried, however, since I heard from Stella that Raelyn was going down to Brooklyn with her friends for a party. But anyway, the eight of us were up bright and early so we could prepare for our mission tonight. Even though the grand opening wasn't until tonight, we were on our way to _Musée_ _de Alphonse_ _to get a better understanding of the place we were going to infiltrate later on._

"Wait. _What_?" Roxy, obviously confused/curious, raised an eyebrow. "Which job was _that?_ " She was seated in the back row of seats with Flora, Bloom, and Tecna. Since they were all on the skinny side, there was enough room for them all.

"Last summer. It was that mission with the gay politician who almost got us blown up at Legoland," replied Bloom, her blue eyes glued to the window as they soaked up the pretty Parisian scenery as Aisha navigated through the confusing streets of Paris. Being a big fan of the Parisian art/architecture styles, Bloom was obviously enjoying every minute of our time here.

"Oh, yeah. I remember that." I reached over and slapped Musa's knee. "Remember how we got shipped to Buckingham Palace in cardboard boxes?"

Musa, who was in her headphones, grinned. "Good times."

"Not really. I was tied up and drugged in a closet for a good five hours," snorted Stella, "it smelt like blood and Chanel No. 5 in there."

"Oh, please. At least you don't remember anything. I, on the other hand, remember _everything_ that happened to me," said Tecna dully, "including that nanny who tried killing me. She attempted six different methods of murder, the mildest of them being the four times she tried to poison me."

"All of that happened on _one_ job?" Roxy was dumbfounded. "Sometimes, it really sucks living on the other side of New York City. I miss all of the good jobs."

"Don't worry, Rox. The Europe jobs are _always_ crazy," assured Aisha, "I'm positive the one tonight won't be an exception."

"Actually, we should hope it will. We don't need any distractions tonight," said Tecna seriously, folding her arms across her chest. "Too much is at stake here."

"Right. Besides, this is a grand opening of a _museum._ I bet the place is going to be packed. There's no way anything too over the top can happen with so many witnesses," insisted Stella.

Musa kicked the back of Stella's seat. "Don't jinx us."

"I think we're here," announced Aisha. We all turned to look out of the windows on the right. The SUV was slowly driving by a tall, thick huge-ass wall that looked about twenty feet. The gate in the center of it was closed and a banner that said __Musée__ _ _de Alphonse__ _was draped above it._

 _"That wall surrounds the entire property," confirmed Tecna after Aisha drove around the block. "And there are only two gates, north and south, making only two ways to get onto the premises. That will make our job easier—well for the ones patrolling the outside. All they'll have to do is stay nearby these two entrances and they can monitor everyone who comes in and everyone who goes out."_

Bloom nodded. "Good. So if any suspicious characters enter the property, our girls watching can warn us ahead of time and we can prepare. That'll reduce causalities."

"So all we'll have to do is waltz inside, find Lewis, arrest him, and done. See? What did I tell you? This mission is going to be a piece of cake," said Stella.

"Don't jinx us," we all chorused.

* * *

Man, my legs were cussing me out right now.

I sat on one of the two beds in Aisha's and I's shared hotel room, rubbing my stinging legs. Not too long ago, Stella had barged in here and forced me to wax my legs. Since the dress I was going to wear to the grand opening tonight revealed my legs, Stella insisted I get rid of the barely visible hairs on my legs so they'd look "smooth and sexy" (her words, not mine). Naturally, I refused to go through with it but I kinda had no choice once Stella shoved my ass into the bathtub and held me down as she slathered my legs with hair removal (Stella could be strong when she wanted to).

So here I was now, getting ready for the evening with tingly but smooth and shiny legs. It was a half past six, meaning the museum was going to open in an hour and a half, giving us more than enough time to pretty ourselves up. While Aisha was showering in the bathroom, I was putting on my makeup. I was about to add some blush to my cheeks when my phone suddenly ringed.

I peered down at my smartphone on the dresser. I didn't recognize the number on the caller ID. I arched an eyebrow. I usually didn't answer unknown calls, but what if this was important? What if this was one of my siblings?

"Who is this?" I demanded the second I put my phone up to my ear.

"Acadia? This is Nereus," said a familiar, concern-laced voice.

Shit. I forgot Aisha gave him my number. "Oh. Hey, Nereus," I said, calming down. As soon as I said _Nereus,_ I heard Aisha top the shower, probably to eavesdrop.

"Is everything okay? You sounded a bit…tense."

"No, I'm fine. So what's up? How are you?"

"I'm good, thanks. You?"

"Same." An awkward silence followed. "So what are you up to this weekend?" I asked at last.

"Oh, I'm just hanging out with some friends. What about you?"

"Same." Another awkward silence. Okay, this was obviously not going anywhere. "Um, I have to go," I said quickly, "talk to you later, okay?"

And I hung up on his ass. _Talk about awkward._

I heard Aisha let out an audible sigh before turning the shower back on. She was probably disappointed me and Nereus didn't hit it off like she wanted. I'm sorry—wait, not really—but Nereus and I just didn't click like that. Aisha was just going to have to find some other chick for her cousin. But unfortunately, I knew Aisha was hellbent on pairing me up with him. Hell, if I told her I wanted to sleep with him, she'd probably give me a condom _and_ rent us a hotel room.

Nereus and I weren't happening. _Not_ happening. I was still trying to figure out how to get out of our "date." Eh, I knew I was going to skip out somehow. Trust me; I wasn't planning on seeing Nereus's face _anytime_ soon.

* * *

"Okay, ladies. We're here. Everyone familiar with the plan?" asked Bloom as the limo stopped along a stretch of curb. It was later that evening and we'd just arrived at Muséede Alphonse. It was go time. All of us were dressed formally for the event, our hair pinned and pulled in neat updos, our lips glossy and eyes shadowy, and our evening dresses fashionable and elegant. We all nodded. "Good. Let's get ready to go in."

We swung our doors open and we stepped out onto the wide sidewalk. The air was cool and crisp and the sky was purple, going on dark. All around us, men in suits and ladies in gowns were walking past us and through the gate, ready to become a part of the upscale event happening on the other side. Our heels clicking against the concrete, we followed their lead and passed through the gate onto the property.

Muséede Alphonse was a huge, beautiful stone villa that completely surrounded that set on the edge of an extensive front lawn that contained a wide, circular statue-centered fountain and straight stone walkways that cut through the green lawns, separating them into symmetrical squares of green. Having been in a private residence back in the older days, the entire property was bordered by tall trees and hedges that obstructed the view of the surrounding city.

As we passed the sparkling fountain, our party of eight split into teams of three. Four of us continued toward the building, two headed down the pathway leading to the back gardens, and the other two lingered in the front garden. This was the plan; Flora, Roxy, Aisha, and Stella were tasked with patrolling the outside of the museum—Roxy and Flora were to take the south gardens nearby the south gate and Aisha and Stella the north gardens by the north gate—while the rest of us were to monitor the inside. If Lewis really was going to be here, we couldn't afford overlook even one inch of the property.

Bloom, Tecna, Musa, and I climbed the wide front steps and stepped through the opened French doors and into the large entrance hall, greeted by black-and-white checkered floors, columns, a crystal chandelier, and a shitload of people. We split up even further; Tecna and I veered toward the immediate staircase on the right while Bloom and Musa headed for the corridors in the back of the ground level. As soon and Tecna and I made it upstairs, she walked to left, I walked to the right. As I said earlier, if Lewis was somewhere in Muséede Alphonse, we needed a pair of eyes in every section, in every direction. He wasn't going to slip past us. We weren't going to leave this joint without him in our custody.

My gaze drifted all over as I proceeded down the wing of paintings. I saw everything. I saw that woman adjust her bra when she thought no one was looking. I saw that other guy pull his underwear out of his butt crack. No movement or action escaped my eyes.

As I turned the corner, I noticed a big mass of people gathered around a large painting hanging from the beige-colored wall. Curious, I walked over and pushed my way to the front of the crowd, gazing up at the massive painting. It was of an open field of daisies swaying in the wind. A brown cottage of some sort set in the background, bold against the deep-blue sky. I looked down at the little sign next to it. It said this painting was called Open Minded by none other than Alphonse D.

Open Minded.

I stared at it for a moment. There was something peculiar about this painting. Like, there was something more to this than what meant the eye. I kept staring at it, unable to figure out what was so different about it. I'd seen plenty of paintings before. But this one…was not like them. I couldn't put my finger on it.

"What?" gasped Tecna over the ear comm, pulling me out of my daze.

"Digit? Is there a problem?" asked Bloom.

"I think I just saw Hoodie Guy," replied Tecna slowly and quietly.

"The hell is he doing in Paris?" I could almost hear Musa wrinkling her nose.

"Why else? The same reason we are," said Aisha, annoyed. "Lewis."

"Hold on. Let me check it out first. Perhaps I am just making illogical assumptions. Just because a saw a guy wearing a yellow hoodie doesn't necessarily mean he's the Yellow Hoodie."

"Of course it does," insisted Stella, "this is a classy event, Digit. Look around you. No one in their right mind is wearing something as casual as a hoodie."

"Digit, investigate but be cautious," advised Bloom, "this could be suspicious."

"Copy that."

The comm link went quiet for a minute. "That is him," whispered Tecna at last. "I just saw him disappear around another corner, but I made out the back of his hoodie just before. It's got hook accents, just like before."

"You know, we should really start calling him Hook Hoodie," half-joked Stella.

We ignored her. "Digital Defender, keep pursing," instructed Bloom, "if you need backup, call for Wind Dancer since the both of you are in the same quadrant."

"Right."

I took one last glance at Open Minded before continuing down the corridor. I wasn't here to stop and admire the artwork.

I heard a creaking sound on over the comm link, followed by Tecna groaning in horror. "Digit? What's wrong?" demanded Bloom.

Tecna made a sickening noise. "Digit to Wildfire. I saw Yellow Hoodie disappear down an empty hall but when I checked, he was gone. I saw a storage closet so I proceeded to open it…Just….I need backup. Now. I'm in the wing of sculptures."

"Wind Dancer, that's your cue," said Bloom.

"Copy that. I'm on my way."

Picking up the pace, I clicked across the hardwood floors to the wing of sculptures, which wasn't that far from the wing of paintings. Being further toward the back, this section of the museum was nearly empty since most of the tour was still downstairs.

I made a right turn, walking into the dead-end hallway where Tecna leaned against the wall, white as paper. "What's the problem?" I asked calmly, walking over.

Tecna gestured toward the closed door in front of me. It was labeled as the janitor's closet. I didn't waste a minute in reaching out and swinging it open. I immediately cupped a hand over my mouth before I could scream. A horrible smell was wafting out of the closet, most likely due to the dead body crammed inside in.

Yes. A dead body. Lying on the floor was a fresh corpse, the legs bent halfway up the wall and the head positioned on a box, lolled to the side. There was a huge red mass on the chest, most likely where she was fatally stabbed. It was a woman. The face was youthful and twisted into an expression of fear and shock—the last thing she felt before someone stabbed her.

"What is it? What's going on?" asked Bloom.

"It's a body," I whispered. "Fresh. Someone just put it here."

"Hoodie Guy?" guessed Musa.

"I don't think so. If he committed murder, I'm sure he'd get out of the building instead of leading me to his handiwork." Tecna shook her head.

"Wait. What's that?" I hissed lowly, pointing inside the closet. Tacked to the wall was a folded, rectangular sheet of paper.

Tecna reached in, pulling the green tack out of the wall and catching the paper before it fell onto the corpse. "What is it this time?" asked Bloom, her voice laced with slight alarm.

"Wind Dancer and I just discovered a piece of paper in the same closet as the body," said Tecna in a near whisper. "I'm unfolding it now. It looks like…a note?"

I peered over Tecna's shoulder at the wrinkly sheet of paper she now held. Written across it were words written in big, bold typewriter font:

 **I wonder who the artist of this empty carcass is. Hint: THEY'RE STILL IN THE BUILDING.  
Hurry to the office downstairs; surprise(s) are waiting for you. And don't worry. It's bulletproof.  
~T**

"Someone's fucking with us," I spat.

Tecna read the note aloud for the others over the comm. "And it's signed… _T_ ," she finished, pressing her lips together.

" _T?_ As in _Tip_?" whispered Roxy, "they _did_ say they'd be waiting for us here."

"It's gotta be," said Stella.

"Maybe Lewis is responsible for this," considered Tecna thoughtfully, "it makes sense. None of us have spotted him, and maybe because he was too busy murdering and shoving some poor girl into a closet. And then, knowing we were here, left behind this note in an attempt to draw us into a trap."

"But it's signed _T,_ Tip. Lewis couldn't have written that note," insisted Stella.

"Unless Lewis _is_ Tip," said Aisha calmly.

"Can't you just pick a theory and stick with it?" Musa sounded annoyed. "First, you say the Trix were pulling the strings and now a criminal who doesn't even know we exist?"

 _"Or perhaps it's Yellow Hoodie," suggested Flora, "he led you to the closet so you'd discover the body and left behind a message for you."_

"Wildfire, how should we proceed?" asked Tecna as I closed the closet.

"You should do what T says," said Stella before Bloom could reply, "Tip got us this far, didn't they? I think they're our _ally._ I don't think he committed the crime, but _saw_ it. And now he's trying to lead us toward the culprit."

"This is worth checking out. Digit, Dancer, proceed with extreme caution," directed Bloom, "I'm on my way now. The rest of you, stick with the original plan."

"Copy that. See you there," nodded Tecna. Just then, my skin went cold and a shiver coursed down my spine. I could feel eyes on me. Apparently, Tecna felt the same way because she flinched. Both our heads whipped around at the same time to glance over our shoulder. For a split second, I saw a shadow disappear around the corner.

"We're being watched!" Tecna drew in a sharp breath. But when we hurried around the corner, we saw nothing. Oddly, the whole corridor was dead empty—and quiet. The people still hadn't made it up here yet. That was probably why the murderer stuffed the body in the janitorial closet up here; because no one would be up here to witness it.

"It doesn't matter. We need to hurry to the office, wherever that is…"

"Right down the hall," said Tecna, "when we first came in, there was a map of the whole museum. I memorized the whole map. The only 'office' in the building is the Alphonse Destroismaisons Memorial Room. It used to be the artist's personal office, the place where most of his ideas and works were born. It's the only place T could be referring to."

"Then what are we waiting for? If the murderer is up there, we'll take 'em down."

Tecna and her keen sense of direction took us to the Memorial Room of Alphonse Destroismaisons, which contained showcases of his memorabilia and framed commemorative photos of the artist hanging on the wall. But we weren't paying attention to any of that. Instead, our eyes immediately landed on the briefcase set on the heavy oak desk. Oh boy. Briefcases were never a good sign. Nonetheless, Tecna slowly raised the lid…

Both of our mouths dropped. Arranged neatly within the briefcase's leather interior were identical stacks upon stacks of hundred dollar bills, each one tied together with a thick yellow rubber band. "Holy shit," I whispered, awestruck.

"Oh no." Tecna's face was a little on the pale side, her lips pressed together so tightly I could barely see them. "No, no, no. This isn't good."

"Dancer? Digit? What's the problem?" asked Bloom.

Neither of us answered. "Acadia, do you realize what this means?" asked Tecna gravely, her face dead serious. She didn't wait for a reply. "We have a _huge_ problem."

"Yeah. _Me,_ " hissed an all-too-familiar voice from behind, followed by the sound of the double doors closing with a heavy _clonk_. Both of us whipped around to see no other than Icy, aka Agent Frostbite, standing in front of the pair of oak doors. She looked like one of those sexy she-spies in the movies; her shiny hair was let loose and she sported a formal back maxi dress that had a slit down the right side that revealed her legs. I would've called her beautiful if her pale pink lips weren't fixed in a scowl and she wasn't pointing a small handgun straight at us.

" _You,"_ spat Tecna, frowning just as hideously.

"What are you doing here, Icy?" I snapped. Neither of us was intimidated by the sight of the gun. The Trix carried guns like women carried purses. They even had guns _in_ their purses.

My mind raced. Could _Icy_ be T? Did _she_ lure us up here just so she could blow our heads off?

"I should be asking the same." Icy was furious. You could see it on her face and hear it in her voice. She hadn't been expecting us to be up here, meaning she couldn't be _T_.

"What are you doing in France?" I demanded. This didn't make sense in the slightest. _Wait!_ Could the Trix be here for Lewis? Did they somehow figure out he was here, or did someone tip them off too?"

Tecna's eyes bulged out of her head. "It was _you_ ," she snarled, jabbing a finger at Icy. " _You_ are the one responsible for that dead body we found in the storage closet downstairs." It made sense. The Trix were cold-blooded _assassins._ Murdering was what they specialized in. But they never killed without a motive. Either that dead girl we found had proved to be a threat to Cloud Tower and the Trix were sent to ice her, or someone had paid them a huge amount to—

Oh fuck. It made sense, why this huge-ass case of money was just sitting up here. Someone had left it behind for the Trix for forever silencing that young woman in the closest.

Icy wasn't fazed. "How'd you figure _that_ out?" she asked sarcastically. "Of _course_ I am."

"Then I'm guessing this is your payment for completing the job." Tecna gestured toward the money. "But aside from that, I took you and your little band of killers to be smarter and more professional than that. You slay someone and then discard their lifeless body in a _closet_? A _public_ one at that. One _anyone_ can just open and find the 'little surprise' you left inside. Usually, when your team slaughters somebody, you get rid of the body _completely_ , never to be seen or found again. But today, you poorly hid the corpse in a _closet?_ That isn't even hiding. It's almost like you _want_ the body to be discovered."

Icy rolled her eyes, unfazed. "You Fairies think you know anything, when in reality, you don't know _anything_. You're such a headache, one I will be relived of very soon."

"What are you going to do? Shoot us?" I asked sarcastically.

"What do _you_ think?" smirked Icy, "I don't have time to stand around and argue with a bunch of dinguses. I have things to do. Now say goodnight!"

There was a thunderous _bang_ as she fired her gun. I threw myself onto the floor, covering my head with my arms. I expected to see Tecna beside me, but she wasn't there. _Tecna?!_ My head snapped up to see Tecna was still standing up. She was holding the briefcase up to her face. I noticed something at her feet. A bullet. The briefcase protected her? But—

Suddenly, I remembered the end of that note we found in the closest: _"….don't worry. It's bulletproof."_

The _briefcase_. Tip was talking about the bulletproof _briefcase_! But how did they know that?

Icy let out a sound of disgust, readying to fire her gun again. But before she could, one of the doors behind her swung open and the next thing we knew, she was screaming out in pain and falling to the ground with a heavy _thump._ Her gun fell out of her hands and tumbled across the floor, landing right in front of my face. The _muzzle,_ the metal tube the _bullets_ came from, was pointed straight at my _eye._ I leapt to my feet just in case the thing wanted to go off and send a bullet through my eye socket.

"Are you two okay?" Bloom was suddenly in the room, shutting the door behind her. She must've been the one to knock Icy out. And speaking of Icy, she lay on the floor unconscious. I wondered how long _that_ would last.

"Guys? What happened?" asked Musa over comms.

"We heard a noise," added Aisha, "it's hard to hear over these crowds, but it kind of sounded like a shot."

"Before hand, we heard you two talking to someone," said Flora, "I couldn't make out the voice so well. There are a lot of people out here in the garden too, so it's difficult to hear." That was good, I guess. If the girls could barely make out a gun shot over our high-performance in-ear receivers, I doubted the other guests heard anything.

"That was _Icy_ ," said Tecna thinly, "she's here and is the one who killed that woman we found in the closest."

"What's with the briefcase?" asked Bloom, her eyes landing on the object Tecna was still clenching onto.

"Oh, yes. When Acadia and I got here, we found this waiting on the desk." She sat the case back on the desk and opened it so Bloom could see all the money inside. "This is the reason Icy came up here; she was coming to collect her pay for ending that woman's life."

"Ha! I told you this was a setup," went Aisha's voice coldly, "the Trix already had someone they needed to finish here in France, so they figured they might as well get their enemies here to end too."

"Negative. Icy was far too surprised to see us." Tecna shook her head. "She wasn't expecting us anymore than we were expecting her. She had no idea we'd be up here. But _Tip_ did, if they truly are the one who left us that note. They directed us to come up here because they knew this was where Icy was headed."

"See! I told you girls Tip is an ally," said Stella excitedly, "he or she was on to Icy, and wanted us to foil her plan to escape into the night will all that cash."

"But that still doesn't make sense. If Tip knew Icy was going to murder someone, why didn't they alert us ahead of time so we could prevent it?" pointed out Aisha.

"Maybe they didn't know about it until it was too late," argued Stella, "they probably just coincidentally came across Icy while she was doing the act."

"Well, regardless of what happened, we're overlooking what's really important," jumped in Roxy before Aisha and Stella could start arguing, "the fact that Tip is obviously in the building and that _none_ of us have spotted Lewis. Something isn't right."

Bloom's frowned deeply. "Yes. Things aren't adding up here. Our mysterious tip leads us to Paris to find and arrest a highly-wanted man but when we show up, we don't find them but things totally different. First a fresh corpse, and then the murderer who happens to be one of our biggest rivals. This _can't_ be a coincidence. Something else is going on."

"What's our next move, chief?" I asked.

"Keep on the lookout for Lewis. That is our _top_ priority," replied Bloom gravely, "we don't have time to worry about the Trix, or even Tip. Too much is at stake."

"Wait. Girls. We may have a problem," said Roxy tonelessly, "Icy is here. And wherever there is Icy, there is her team. When it comes to the Trix, you always get the full package. Stormy and Darcy are lurking around somewhere in this very building."

Musa let out an audible groan. "I totally forgot about them."

"Don't worry; we'll stay extra alert," assured Aisha.

"That's not what I'm worried about. If they're not all in the same place, they have some kind of way to stay in touch with each other. They have to be using ear receivers like us. And if they're using ear comms as a form of communication…." She trailed off, leaving us to connect the dots. It only took us a millisecond to comprehend what she was getting at.

SHIT.

Bloom didn't waste any time in crouching down over Icy's unmoving, unconscious body and pulling a small, black device out of her ear. A green light was on it was blinking repeatedly, meaning it was on.

DOUBLE SHIT.

If Icy had an ear comm, so did her sisters; they were all most likely tuned to the same frequency. Ear communicators were nothing but tactical microphones. And if this green light was on, the microphone was fully functional. And if the microphone was fully functional and in the same room as me, Bloom, and Tecna, that meant Stormy and Darcy had heard _everything_ we just said. They knew we were here and had just seized their bounty and they knew Lewis, the man they wanted to _kill_ , was under the same roof the same roof as us _and_ them.

TRIPLE SHIT.

Bloom crushed the tiny device in between her fingers. "Girls, the situation has just changed drastically," said Bloom alertly, touching her own ear comm. "Darcy and Stormy know what we're up to and are probably working to compromise our mission as we speak. We have to get to Lewis ASAP or the Trix will beat us to him. We don't have much time."

The other Winx chorused their understanding and promise to up their game.

"What do we do about the money?" Tecna asked Bloom. "Surely we're not going to leave it here for one of the Trix to claim."

We should _totally_ jack the money, making the Trix's trip to France a waste of their time _and_ money. If they were being paid for the killing they just committed, some thug lord had most likely hired them individually. See, Cloud Tower was not only a unified organization of evil, but it was also like some kind of guild for assassins. Anyone with enough cash could go to Cloud Tower directly and could hire an agent as their temporary gunman—gun _woman_ through the organization's Hire-A-Hitwoman service. When Cloud Tower agents took jobs from clients instead of the organization itself, all included expenses would be on the agent herself to pay for instead of receiving aid and funding from CT. So in order for the Trix to get to France they had to have purchased plane tickets instead of using one of CT's personal jets. That was probably pricey but a well-worth it expense on their part considering the payment they were supposed to receive in return for completing their job was at _least_ 50 thousand. Whoever they'd just killed _had_ to be someone important if the Trix's employer was paying them _that_ much. _Wait._ How _did_ the Trix's bounty end up in the museum?

"Of course not. I'm taking the money with me," said Bloom, closing the briefcase and picking it up by the handle. "No way we're letting the Trix claim their spoil for foul play. As soon as this is over we're dropping this whole thing in the closest body of water. But for now, we need to work _fast._ The Trix are on the loose and so is Lewis. He's an opportunity I know they won't be able to resist, even over all this money."

"The control room," said Tecna, snapping her fingers. "This place has cameras everywhere and the control room will have all the feeds. If we had those, we'd be able to find Lewis easily if he's on the property."

" _And_ we'd be able to see the surveillance tapes from earlier," I pointed out, "we could use those to see who left us that note in the closest. We could even turn in the footage of the Trix murdering that woman to the police and have them arrested."

"Then let's not waste anymore time." Bloom glanced down at Icy. "We still have an advantage. Icy's out cold, but not for long. Stormy and Icy will be at a disadvantage without their leader."

I picked up Icy's fallen handgun. "Thanks for letting me borrow," I said, smirking down toward Icy as I tucked the handgun in my bra. I felt like one of those hot she-spies in all the movies. I was in a sexy dress, and I was holding a gun in between my boobs. _Now_ I was a badass. Besides, no way were we going to leave a loaded gun with Icy. It might even come in handy later on.

"Okay, so here's the game plan: Digit, you and Dancer will find the control room. I'm sure they'll be guards so Siren, come up and regroup with them just in case. I'll get back to my post downstairs and continue monitoring for Lewis and possibly the other two Trix," instructed Bloom, "let's move, ladies."

And that's what we did. After dragging Icy into the closet (ironic, wasn't it?), the three of us left the room and parted ways. "Okay, so where's the control room?" I asked Tecna as we passed into the halls, which were now _very_ crowded. It was only my hope that no one would open the janitorial closet anytime soon. I didn't really care if anyone found Icy.

"I think I have a clue," said Tecna as Musa appeared out of nowhere and at her side.

She took us to the back of the floor, specifically to a door labeled _employees only._ Musa looked around to make sure no one was looking. "Coast is clear," she said. Tecna slowly pushed the door, ushering me and Musa instead. It took us into a narrow, bleak, dimly lit hallway that was lined with identical blue doors, had cinder block walls, and smelt like five day-old meatloaf. It was ironic, really. While the rest of the museum was extremely lavish, the employees' area was just true blue shitty.

"C'mon. Let this," whispered Tecna as we advanced down the narrow corridor. "The control room has to be behind one of these doors." She opened the first door just enough for her to peek inside. "Nope. Not this one."

Musa tried another door. "Not this one either."

I tested a door further down. I stuck my head in to find an empty, plain-looking locker room. "No luck here," I said, quietly closing the door back.

"Wait. Guys. Do you hear that?" whispered Musa, freezing.

Tecna and I paused in our tracks, sharpening our ears. Sure enough, I heard a few muffled voices not too far away. "Where is that coming from?" asked Tecna.

"This way." Moving lightly, Musa traveled to the end of the hall and then around the corner on the left. Tecna and I followed. As soon as we rounded the corner, we came upon a blue door with a sign that said _security. Bingo._ But something wasn't wrong. The voices were now louder, coming from the other side of the door. Security guards?

Musa pressed a finger against her lips to indicate silence. We cautiously approached the door to listen to what was going on on the other side. "…I can't find her anywhere," a voice was saying, "she might not have showed up. Maybe we can try to rewind the footage…"

"We don't have time for that," said another voice impatiently and roughly, "something fishy is going on. Sky just disappeared on us, our comm link died..."

"Those are _no_ security guards," hissed Musa as the two people inside the room started bickering.

Tecna and I nodded. Agreed. The security room had already been compromised by another party. But that wasn't going to stop us from doing what we came here to do.

I pulled the handgun out of my bra and glanced at Tecna and Musa for confirmation. They bobbed their heads in agreement. _Showtime._ Taking the lead, I kicked in the door and stormed inside, aiming the gun at the first person I saw, which happened to be a guy in a tux standing at the desk of monitors. _"Freeze,"_ I barked. My mouth dropped open the second I realized who it was. _"Nereus?"_ I said in disbelief as he turned around, revealing the face of Aisha's cousin, the lights from the screens behind him casting a dramatic glow on his body. He wasn't alone, either. Flanking him on both sides were two tuxedo-clad young men, one of them mean-looking with spiky magenta hair and the other… _Brandon?_ Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the two unconscious guys in security guard uniforms lying in the corner. "What the _fuck_ is going on here?" I demanded, enraged.

" _Acadia?"_ Nereus's face went ghostly white.

"Belgian Chocolate Girl?" Brandon was equally as surprised.

Over comms, Aisha and Stella both spoke at once. "Is that _Brandon_?" squeaked Stella. I could practically hear her jaw dropping. "What's _he_ doing here?" she asked at the same time Aisha was blurting, "Nereus? As in my _cousin_?" NAW. Who else did I know named Nereus?

"Yep, to both of those questions," I said, still steadily pointing the gun Nereus's chest. "I'm about to blow a hole in their hearts now."

"Who the hell are you?" barked the guy I didn't recognize, scowling nastily.

"Who was that?" asked Roxy, "what's going on? Did you guys make it to the surveillance room?"

" _Us?_ Who the hell are _you_ three?" Musa snapped back, her cold stare shifting between them. "You have _ten_ seconds to talk. My friend here has a gun and you'd best believe she knows how to use it. So if you want to be stubborn, let's just say this situation is going to end with a _bang_."

Clever.

"Don't do anything," growled Aisha, "I'm on my way."

"Tides, _no!_ You need to keep watching the north entrance. Don't stray from your position," ordered Bloom, "Wind Dancer, explain the situation."

"The hell if I know," I spat, "we just walked in and there they were. They even knocked out the security guards. They're clearly a threat."

"We didn't do that! They were already passed out when we got here," scowled Spiky Hair.

I bit my tongue. It made sense, when you thought about it. Some girl got murdered here in the museum. If the security guards had been conscious and doing their jobs, they would've seen the crime happening live on camera and called the police already. The Trix must've considered that possibility and took care of them before committing the killing so there truly would be no witnesses.

"Do you need backup?" asked Bloom.

I didn't answer. "'Hanging with some friends', huh?" I smirked at Nereus, "when you said that, I figured you guys were just gonna sit around and play video games like boys usually do, not fly over to Paris, France and break into the control room of a brand-new art museum."

"I can say the same for you," countered Nereus, pressing his lips together.

"You know this bitch?" Spiky Hair asked Nereus.

"Who are you calling a bitch, bitch?" I said.

"I suggest you mind your words," said Tecna thinly, "especially when someone like _Wind Dancer_ has her hands on something lethal."

"And yes, I do. In fact, I just got off the phone with his ass a few _hours_ ago," I clarified.

"I'll ask you three this one: what are you doing here?" demanded Tecna, her face as hard as Musa's.

"You're talking about us, but why are _you_ here?" snorted Spiky Hair.

"You have no right to ask questions, especially since _we're_ the ones with the weapon," answered Tecna icily, "and there's no point in replying to my previous question. Your business in here is obvious. You're here for the museum's camera footage. That's the only logical explanation? But the question is _why_?"

"That classified information, ladies," said Brandon smoothly, "if we told you, we'd have to kill you."

"Well, I got news for you, buddy," smirked Musa, "if you _don't_ tell us, then _we're_ going to have to kill you."

"Does Aisha know about you?" asked Nereus in a near whisper.

"Does Aisha know about _you_?"

"Don't shoot my cousin or I'll make you regret it" threatened Aisha. I ignored her.

"I told you we should've armed ourselves." Spiky Hair punched Brandon in the arm. "Then we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Yeah, because who brings guns to a museum, Riven?" said Brandon sarcastically.

"They did, obviously! And now they're using it as leverage."

Nereus dared to take a step toward me. His eyes were wide and pleading. "Look, Acadia, I don't know what's going on but—"

"Stay back, Nereus," I warned, "you know what? Fuck this shit. We have a job to do and you guys are getting in the way. Put your hands in the air. _All_ of you put your hands up. And go stand against that wall." I couldn't help but feel a little screwed, though. Just this morning I'd been absolutely positive I wouldn't be seeing Nereus any time soon, yet, here he was, standing a few feet away from me. Way to jinx it, Acadia.

"This is just great," complained "Riven" as he and his buddies obeyed, lining up against the wall as they held their hands up.

With them out of the way, Tecna hurried over to the monitors, which were all showing different angles of live feedback from the camera spread throughout the premises. "Wildfire, I have access to the cameras," she confirmed, touching her ear comm.

"Good job. You know what to do."

"Affirmative. Proceeding to analyze the feed—" Before Tecna could even glance at the monitors, they all suddenly went black. _"What?"_ Tecna's voice cracked.

"What just happened?" cried out Musa.

Tecna tried to turn one of the monitors back on, but the screen stayed blank. "Oh no. Not good, not good," she muttered.

"We just can't catch a break can we?" I grumbled, joining her at the desk.

"Wildfire to Digital Defender. What happened?" Bloom seemed to be asking that question a lot tonight.

"All of the monitors just clicked off before I could see anything," reported Tecna, "my guess is that they have been sabotaged."

"What did you fuckers do?" I demanded, whirling around on my heels to face the boys. But much to my astonishment, they were _gone. Shit._ We turn our backs to them for a _second_ and they straight up disappear! "Where'd they go?!"

"That doesn't matter right now," said Tecna firmly, "what does is that we fix the problem at hand _ASAP._ "

"But how are we supposed to do that?" asked Musa, frustrated. "The computers are connected to the cameras so if the camera are off, we won't see anything on this end. Someone just hijacked the cameras."

"That can't be the problem. If that _was_ , the computers should still turn on," argued Tecna.

"Someone knows we're in here," I said lowly, putting the handgun back in my bra. "And they don't want us to see the surveillance. I bet it was those boys."

"I don't think so," disagreed Tecna, "did you hear them arguing in here before we entered? They didn't even know how to work this equipment, much less shut it down from another source. Besides, they just left not two minutes ago. That isn't enough time to complete a full shutdown."

"The Trix then?" I considered.

Tecna shrugged. "Maybe. But Icy's the most tech savvy and she's currently stuffed in a closet, unconscious. Then there is Stormy, who is so ignorant in the subject I bet she doesn't even know how to launch a Microsoft application. There's always Darcy but—"

"It's not Darcy," interrupted Roxy.

"How do you know?" asked Stella.

"Because I'm looking at her right now," deadpanned Roxy, "she just entered the sculpture garden. If I'm quick enough, I might be able to sneak up—wait, no. She just spotted me. She's coming over now, and something tells me it's not to talk about the sculptures. Please stand by. This is about to get messy…"

"We have another problem," announced Aisha over the sound of Roxy and Darcy fighting each other, "you know the guys who killed Mikhailov and kidnapped Takashima? Well, I think they're here.

" _What?"_ gasped everyone, excluding Roxy since she was wrestling Darcy at the moment.

"Every few minutes, a guy in sunglasses and a tux walks through the front entrance," went on Aisha grimly, "some go into the museum, others stay out here and walk around the garden. I didn't think much of it at first because practically every man here has on a suit, but their outfits are way too identical. Same belt around their waists, same pair of shoes on their feet, same tie around their necks. I don't know for sure if they belong to the same organization that has been giving us trouble lately, but they're definitely suspicious characters."

"Oh no," groaned Flora, "I'm in the rose garden near the back entrance and I think the same thing is happening here. I thought it was a bit odd similar-looking men kept showing up, but I overlooked it because I never considered the enemy would arrive individually.

"Me neither," admitted Aisha, "they usually just swarm in all at once but now that I think about it, that'd scream obvious. They're being smart. They're going in one at a time, sneaking right past our defenses."

"Dammit!" swore Musa, stomping her foot. "How'd they even figure out about this place? I thought the whole reason Tip tipped us off was to jump at this opportunity before someone else did."

"Unless Tip told them too," I piped up.

"That doesn't matter. The fact that the black shirts are here proves that Lewis is _indeed_ somewhere in this very building," said Bloom solemnly, "forget about the security cameras. They aren't an option anymore. You girls have to spread out again so we can find the target before the enemy does."

"Roger that."

Just as we were turning to leave, the door suddenly swung open. At first, I expected it to be one of the boys, but I was surely mistaken. The figure of Stormy, aka Stormy Night, filled the doorway. "Well, well, well. Look what I found," she smirked, her voice sickeningly taunting. She reached down into her dress, removing a gun from her cleavage. Oh _c'mon!_ Rightwhen I _just_ put my gun in between my own boobs!

She stepped into the room and closed the door with her foot, training the handgun on us. "I was wondering when I'd run into one of you."

"Stormy. What the hell are you doing here? Haven't you and your sisters already made a trip here?" I seethed. I _hated_ Stormy with a fierce passion.

"What gave it away?" asked Stormy sarcastically, giving the unconscious guards a quick glance.

"You Trix make me sick. You flew all the way over here to kill off one woman? How blood-thirsty can you be?" sneered Musa.

"What can we say? Money talks." Stormy laughed harshly.

"So who was she?" questioned Tecna calmly, putting her hands on her hips. "We saw how much money you _were_ supposedto be paid, and it was quite a handsome sum. That woman had to be someone important if her murder was worth that much."

Stormy gritted her teeth. "Where is it?" she demanded, "where's our money? I know you Fairies have it. We heard everything you said through Icy's communicator." Wow. Notice how she was legit more concerned about the money than her own sister. If she truly heard what we said, than she knew Icy was knocked out cold. But apparently, that was a detail she didn't give a shit about.

Musa shrugged. "How should _we_ know? Do you see a few _thousand_ dollars on us?"

"Don't get smart with me. Tell me where it is _now_."

 _That's it._ We weren't playing this game with her. Just as I was about to reach into my bra for the handgun, Stormy aimed hers straight at me. "Nuh-uh, Windy," she taunted, "dare to move again and I'll fire at your chest. Doubt you'd survive that, huh?"

"You're not getting away with this," said Tecna, "there are eight of us, only three of you. Two, technically."

"I'm not afraid of you. After I claim my prize, I'll go find Lewis and kill him too. I'll be the victor, like always." Notice how she didn't say _we_ as in the Trix, the unity she belonged to. To be allies, the Trix didn't really seem that loyal to each other. They were known to take advantage of one another although they were _blood sisters. That_ was how vile they were.

"Who was she, Stormy?" repeated Tecna. "Wait, why am I asking you this? You probably don't even know, nor do you care. As long as you were going to get paid, it didn't matter who she was or what she did. As soon as you were told how much you'd receive for pulling off the murder, you three went for the kill."

"Of course we did." Stormy snorted. "You don't just turn down one hundred thousand dollars."

"One hundred _thousand_?" Musa's and I's mouths fell open. What the _fuck?_ That was a tenth of a _million!_ Usually, hitmen were paid somewhere between five and twenty thousand depending on who the victim was. But one hundred _thousand_?

Tecna, on the other hand, was not fazed. "You're right. That is a lot of money, but I think it's a little _too_ much for the murder of one woman. No, there is far more to this. You and the other Trix had other orders from your employer. What other evil deeds have you committed before coming here? Are they related somehow? And who exactly hired you? Why did they leave your money inside a museum, just out in the open? Anyone could've just discovered it and grabbed it for themselves. Something isn't adding up here."

"Wow, you're awfully talkative today, aren't you?" Stormy rolled her eyes. "And awfully _bold._ You don't try to demand answers from a girl with a gun, especially if that girl happens to be _me_. And I thought you were supposed to be the smart one."

"I am. That's why I'm not afraid of you. Honestly, Stormy. Howmany times have you pointed a gun at us? How many situations like this have we been involved in together? Far too many, and you _still_ haven't managed to kill us. Why do you think none of us are shaken by your presence? Because we've been there, done that." Tecna even mocked a yawn for effect. I had to agree with Stormy. Tecna really _was_ talking a lot today.

"Well, sorry to disappoint, but things are going to be different this time. I'm not stupid like my sisters," insisted Stormy arrogantly, "there have been countless times when they had you Fairies cornered, when they had the chance to get rid of you for good. But no, they wanted to stand around and gloat instead of finishing the job, ignorant to the fact they were only giving you girls an opening. Well, I'm smarter than that. I'm going to take advantage of this perfect opportunity while I have it…" For her to be "smarter" than her sisters, she was making the same mistake they had. Because little did she know, as she continued to blab on about how there was nowhere for us to run and how we were gonna die and all that nonsense, the door was slowly and quietly easing open behind her. Then it occurred to me; Tecna had been doing all that talking to stall until Bloom got here.

We all kept our eyes focused on Stormy, acting like we didn't see Bloom sneaking up behind her. "…you three are as good as dead," Stormy was saying as Bloom soundlessly stepped into the room, "my sisters are going to be so jealous when they find out I took out _three_ of ALFEA's top Fairies—" Stormy suddenly paused, her face going blank. Behind her, Bloom froze dead in her tracks. All was quiet for a second. Without warning, Stormy suddenly whirled around and fired her gun at Bloom, not even having the thing trained on her for five seconds. Bloom reacted just as quickly, raising the briefcase—she was seriously still holding on to that thing?—up to her face. The bullet landed against it with a dull thud, leaving Bloom unharmed. Then I remembered: it was _bulletproof._

"What the hell?" shouted Stormy, enraged.

Bloom smirked. "You said you wanted your money? Well, here. _Have it_!" And with those words, Bloom was suddenly slashing Stormy across the face with the briefcase. There was a sickening _crack_ as it collided with Stormy's jaw. Musa, Tecna, and I watched as Stormy's gun fell from her grasp as her whole body dropped to the ground, unmoving. She was out cold.

"Ya know, that was the second time we've been held at gunpoint today," I stated, "I'm starting to see a pattern here."

"Hey, guys?" Stella's voice came as a whisper over our communication link. "I think I just found Lewis. But there's one problem: he just walked straight into a rock."


	10. Fiasco in France, Part 2

_**A/n: Bad chapter. I'll come back and fix it later.**_

* * *

" _What?"_ said the rest of us (excluding Roxy, who was STILL battling Darcy) in disbelief.

"So you're telling us the target just walked directly into a _rock_?" asked Tecna, not sounding one bit convinced. "Are you sure _you_ didn't walk into a rock?"

"Yes to both of those things," said Stella lowly over the comm link. We heard what sounded like leaves rustling. "I'm in a tree right now, so my view of him is a bit awkward, but I just saw him approach one of the big rocks by the trellis. He did some little trick and the center of the rock just _opened_ like a door. He just walked straight down into it and the door closed behind him. The rock is just some kind of façade for what looks like a hidden entrance leading underground."

"An underground bunker? Funny, I read the museum's brochure and it never said anything about _that_ ," snorted Musa, "this place is just full of surprises."

"Supernova, what's your position?" asked Bloom, glancing down Stormy, who lay on the floor completely knocked out.

"In the sculpture garden in the back of the museum. I'm going down for a closer look." We heard more rustling. "If I knew I was going to climb trees, I would've worn heels," she grumbled. "We heard a snap, a yelp from Stella, and then a _thump._

"Stella, did you just fall out of the tree?" asked Musa, rolling her eyes.

"Maybe. Shut up."

"Just be careful. Everyone else, merge onto Supernova's position," ordered Bloom, opening the door and ushering me, Musa, and Tecna out of the control room.

"I'll try, but I'm being followed," muttered Aisha, "I'm heading inside. If I use the crowd for cover, I'll be able to sneak past them."

"Copy that. Just watch your back," said Bloom as the four of us burst out of the surveillance room and into the little, stuffy corridor of the employee's area. Just as we were about to pass through the door leading out of the restricted area and back into the museum where the other guests were, Tecna stopped us.

"Look. Something's attached to the door," she pointed out. Sure enough, there was a folded-up sheet of paper taped to it.

Bloom peeled it off and unfolded it. "Another note?" she said, though it sounded more like a question. The words written on the page were in a bold typewriter font like last time:

 **Well, you know where in the museum Lew is.** _ **Under it.**_ **Why? I'll let him explain that to you. That is, if you make it to him first.  
The Trix aren't the only enemies you have to worry about now; a new—or should I say **_**old**_ **?—group has arrived and is already  
on the hunt for L. Don't worry; there's still hope for the success of your mission. Come back to the library; yet **_**another**_ **surprise is waiting for you. And be sure to lock the door behind you.  
~T**

"Oh, great. This can't be good," groaned Musa.

"Wait. This wasn't here when the three of us first came here. T—Tip must've _just_ planted this here, which means he or she _is_ in the building," confirmed Tecna.

"I bet it was Nereus and those boys we caught," I assumed, pressing my lips together. "Besides Bloom, they're the only ones who passed through here. Well, there's Stormy who came before her, but I highly doubt it was her."

"Well ladies, it looks like we're going on another detour," announced Bloom, reaching out and slowly pushing the Staff Only door open. She peeped through the small crack, checking to make sure the coast was clear. The corridor outside was too crowded, so we had to stay put for now. If we barged out now, some people might get suspicious as to why a bunch of teenage girls were rushing out of an _employees-only_ zone. Then they'd call security and our cover would be blown for good.

"What if this is a setup?" considered Musa as Bloom watched for an opening.

"I don't think so." Tecna shook her head. "If it hadn't been for them, we never would've known that the Trix were here and committed that murder. We never would've stopped them from collecting their ill-earned bounty," she pointed out, glancing down at the briefcase of cash Bloom still clung to.

I nodded. "I think it's safe to say Tip is on our side. At least for now."

"Okay, it's clear," announced Bloom, pushing the door open further. "Let's move."

And that was what we did. We escaped into the corridor, going unnoticed by the other guests since they all had their backs turned to us at the moment. We proceeded down the wing of artwork, walking fast enough to actually cover some distance but slow enough to not look like we were in a hurry and draw attention to ourselves.

"Supernova to Wildfire," said Stella over the ear communicators, "I'm at the giant rock Lewis just disappeared into. I don't know how to get the door back open…"

"You mean you didn't see how he opened it?" I snapped quietly so the other guests wouldn't overhear.

"I told you, I was in a freaking _tree._ My point of view wasn't the best."

"Well, keep trying at it," directed Bloom, "but try to be quick. Spring Shower, go and try to help Stella."

"Copy that," said Flora, "Supernova, I'm on my way."

"We've already wasted enough time as it is," continued Bloom, "the enemy is already here and lurking around every corner—" Coincidentally, just as _we_ were rounding a corner, Bloom froze in her tracks, prompting us to do the same. And it only took the rest of us a second to realize why she stopped so abruptly; not that far away—about a few yards—were two black -suited men in sunglasses conversing with each other nearby a crowd of people admiring one of the massive paintings hanging on the wall. They were too deep in conversation to notice us, giving us a chance to slip back around the corner before they spotted us.

Bloom gritted her teeth as we out some distance between us and them. "We nearly ran straight into them."

"C'mon. We'll just go the other way," urged Tecna.

We backtracked and took a left into the photography exhibition, where we againnearly ran into _another_ pair of black shirts. And then just as we were trying to get away from _them_ before being seen, we nearly crossed paths with _some more_ agents in dark suits. Those shits were _everywhere!_

It was a miracle we got to the library (which was luckily still empty) without being seen. "That was a close call," sighed Tecna, closing the door behind us and locking it just as T ordered. "They're swarming the place. It'll only be a matter of time before they find Lewis before we do."

"Uh, guys. Icy's gone," I announced as I swung open the closet door to find it empty. Bitch must've woken up and set out to find her money, which Bloom still had.

Before Bloom could say anything, all of our attentions snapped to the pair of French doors behind the desk as a black blur dropped down onto the terrace on the other side of them. My first thought was an enemy, but I calmed down when I saw Roxy on the other side of the glass. She knocked on it as if asking to be let inside.

Bloom rushed over, unlocked the doors, and pushed them open for her. Roxy hurried in and for the split second the doors were open, we could hear the audible sounds of fighting and scuffling filling the night air. "Roxy! What's going on up there?" asked Bloom once Roxy was inside, "what happened to Darcy?"

"Still on the roof," huffed Roxy, trying to catch her breath. "While we were fighting, those mysterious agents in black suits came out of nowhere and forced out battle onto the rooftop. They're still up there fighting Darcy; I saw an opening for an escape and took it."

"The situation is getting worse than I thought," frowned Tecna.

"Hey, guys. I just found another note," piped up Musa by the bookshelf, waving around a sheet of paper.

 **Lewis is six feet under—** _ **literally. Who would've thought a sublevel existed under the museum?  
Lew did—and so do I. And there's more than one way to get in. Listen closely; you might need this information  
in the future. Walk over to the first two bookshelves to the right of the door. Who would've thought they were doors?  
~L  
**_

"How cliché," said Tecna distastefully as Bloom made a course for the bookshelves. "Why do people always design _bookcases_ as hidden entrances? That idea is so overused."

"Doesn't matter. Let's just go with it," said Musa, rolling her eyes as Bloom pulled apart the two bookshelves, revealing a small little nook. The room was wood-paneled from ceiling to floor and completely bare.

"I don't get it. This is just an empty room," said Roxy as we all crowded inside.

"That's what they want you to think," grinned Musa. And for some odd reason, she started pressing her weight against the wall.

"What are you doing?" I deadpanned as she started pushing against the wall in different areas. "You look retarded." It legit looked like she was humping the walls.

Musa ignored me. She tested the portion of the wall closer toward the corner. As she put her weight against it, the paneling budged just a little. "Aha! Bingo," she said triumphantly. She slammed her shoulder against it, making it jiggle in place even more. After applying a bit more force to it, the wide strip of paneling eventually gave in and swung open like a door, revealing a narrow stone staircase behind it. "Here's the _real_ entrance," she announced.

"Good thinking," applauded Bloom.

"Still cliché," insisted Tecna.

Bloom stared down the staircase and into the darkness they led into. "If Lewis is somewhere down there, then we need to be too. C'mon, girls."

And so we carefully and cautiously proceeded down the stairs after our leader. I had Icys' handgun ready just in case someone wanted to pop out and scare a bitch. The stairs led us into a cold stone chamber that was barely lit by the convenient burning candles hanging on the walls. At the end of the chamber was a pair of important and old-looking doors. Seeing we had no other option but to go through them, we slowly advanced toward them. Bloom grasped the brass handles and looked at us for confirmation. I held up my gun, implying that I was prepared to shoot up the first thing that was probably going to charge at us. Musa also got the gun she'd nabbed from Stormy. We both nodded. Roxy and Tecna put on their let's-do-this-thing-bitches face and nodded as well. Bloom nodded back. "One my signal," she whispered. "One. Two. Three!"

As soon as the countdown was over, Bloom flung the doors open and Musa and I charged in first, guns ablazin'. I more-than-half expected a bunch of meaty guys to leap at us, but the only thing that greeted us instead was a draft of stale air that smelt like Foot Locker for some reason.

The room was some kind of old English wood-paneled library with tall bookshelves that spanned the wall from floor to ceiling. There were a few ancient decorative pieces here and there to add a bit of charm to the space, but I wasn't paying attention to that. Instead, my focus was on the glass-front cases against the back wall. They contained rows of different rifles and knives in many styles. Whoa. So whoever owned this library was a bookworm _and_ a badass.

I was going to tell that joke to the Winx, but immediately found out they weren't concerned with those weapons. I didn't even think they noticed. Instead, their eyes were glued to the person sitting in the old-fashioned armchair behind the heavy oak desk in the center of the space. His dark hair was the same color as his raven-colored suit, styled to the side and stiff-looking from all the gel holding it in place. The man had his elbows on the wood surface of the desk, his fingertips touching and dark eyes focused on us. The corner of his mouth was tugged up into a smirk. "Hello, ladies," he said calmly, as if he'd been expecting us. Daniel E. Lewis.

Bloom didn't waste any time in pulling out her badge. "Mr. Lewis, we're operatives from the American branch of the Association of Futuristic Efficient Agents sent to arrest you," she said, approaching the desk. I almost got confused for a minute; it'd been so long since I'd heard someone call ALFEA by its actual title. I'd nearly forgotten ALFEA actually _stood_ for something. "Cooperate and we won't be forced to use violence."

Lewis completely disregarded her warning. "I wonder how long it'd be before I ran into ALFEA," he chuckled to himself, leaning back in his chair.

"You knew we were coming," stated Roxy flatly. I could practically hear what the other Winx were thinking: could Lewis be _T_?

"Of course I did. Just like I also knew the agents who'd confront me would be the same ones who investigated my hotel back in Manhattan not that long ago." That took us by surprise. Lewis saw how astonished we looked and laughed lightly. "I have eyes and ears all over the place. I was well aware what ALFEA would do even before they did it."

"Then why'd you leave the dead body of Mary Jane Boliden in the bathtub?" challenged Tecna. _Oh yeah._ I had also forgotten about that. That seemed like so long ago.

"Because that was your first clue," answered Lewis matter-of-factly, studying us closely. Oh, crap. Here we go. This old fuck was about to start fucking with our minds.

"First clue? For _what_?" demanded Musa.

Lewis brushed aside her question. "Do you even know who they are?" he asked calmly.

That caught us off-guard. "What are you talking about?" asked Roxy suspiciously.

"You first became aware of their existence when they compromised your mission with Mikhailov. You had another close call with them when you went to conduct an investigation in my hotel room. They nearly shot the redhead here. That was their second attempt on her life. There's a reason behind that, but I'll save that information for later. Your last encounter with them was that night at Crystal Towers when they kidnapped the heir to the Takashimas' company. Tell me, ladies. Do you think those three incidents are somehow connected?" We didn't justify that question with an answer, prompting Lewis to keep going. "Those same men are upstairs as we speak, patrolling the whole museum for me. Do you think that's a coincidence?"

"Hold your tongue, Mr. Lewis. _We're_ the ones who'll be asking the questions," reported Tecna blandly, "now stand up and come with us, or like Wildfire said, we'll have to forcefully _make_ you."

Lewis didn't budge. "Do you even know who they are?" he asked suddenly.

"What? Who are 'they?'" Roxy wrinkled her nose.

"Don't listen to him. He's only trying to distract us," I spat, "this could be a trap."

"The men who keep appearing during your missions," replied Lewis, "do you know who they are?"

Bloom pressed her lips together as if debating whether to answer that or not. "No. We don't," she said at last, "do _you_?"

"Wildfire, what are you doing? Don't entertain him," snapped Tecna.

"Digit, we don't know anything about those people who keep getting in the way of our missions," pointed out Bloom, turning to glance between us. "They're becoming a problem and we don't know anything about them. We need _some_ kind of info about them and we plan to handle them accordingly. And like it or not, this man is the only one who can tell us what we need to know."

"Wildfire has a point," admitted Roxy, "we can't just push this issue aside any longer. These mysterious people are going to keep intervening in our jobs; according to everything Wildfire's told me about your past missions, these people seem to be getting more dangerous with every encounter. They could be targeting us on purpose and we can't overlook the fact they're a real problem."

"We can brief him _after_ he's in ALFEA's custody," said Tecna firmly, "we're wasting time."

"Digit. We might not get this opportunity again," reminded Bloom. Again, she was right. Lewis had this strange ability—the ability to slip through fingers. When you thought you had him, he always managed to glide straight through your grasp regardless of your defenses. This might be the only chance we could talk to Lewis. If we wanted to know more about our new enemy, we had to take it.

Tecna looked like she wanted to protest, but she didn't because she knew Bloom was right. Bloom turned back to Lewis. "Talk. Who are those people who keep coming after us?"

Lewis nudged forward a book that'd already been setting on the desk. It was already turned to a set page. Drawn on it was some kind of symbol; a triangle inscribed in a circle with a smaller circle inscribed in the triangle. In the center of the smaller circle was an uppercase _B_ with two long black snakes curling in the inside and outside of the shape. "Have you ladies ever seen this image before?" asked Lewis. He had a different tone of voice; no longer did he sound amused. Instead, he sounded dead serious. Like this was no longer a game for him.

The five of us shook our heads no. This didn't ring a bell at all.

"That is the emblem the Black Serpents, the same group you girls have been encountering lately."

"So? We've dealt with lots of different crime gangs in the past," informed Musa, folding her arms across her chest. "These guys aren't anything special."

"Oh, but aren't they? Do you even know how old this is?" inquired Lewis, gesturing down at the book Bloom was still studying. "This book originates all the back to Alphonse Destroismaisons's time in the late 1800s, over _one hundred_ years ago. _That's_ how long the Black Serpents have been around. They're an evil clan that has existed for decades—over a _century._ And they still exist today."

"But that doesn't make any sense. We would've known about them if they're _that_ infamous," countered Tecna.

"Yes, but that's because until recently, everyone assumed the whole organization was dead. After the Second World War, they started to decline to the point of completely disappearing from history. No one had heard from them for decades after that—until now. They're back and stronger than ever. And it's my suspicion that their goal is to fulfill the same one the original leader had set all the way back in the 1800s."

"Goal? What goal?" asked Bloom quickly, not missing a beat.

"That's the thing. The Black Serpents have always been a super secretive organization, and their true motives have never been clear or understood. But one this is for sure: people as resourceful, intelligent, and capable as them never accomplish _anything_ without a reason. It's my belief that they _purposely_ erased themselves from history—and chose to rise again in the present day. That's why I traveled all the way to Paris; for answers. I don't know if you know this, but Alphonse Destroismaisons was far more than an artist. He was just like you and I—a _spy._ And this was his private lair, the place where his _real_ work was done. This is where he kept all of his confidential information, all the knowledge and intel he'd gathered about his foes, findings, and experiences during his work. Knowing he and the original Black Serpents existed around the same time, I knew he'd have some information about them. After all, they were the worst crime group of that time, so it figures the best spy of the time would know a thing or two about them. He kept loads of journals with entries about his discoveries, encounters, and suspicion. I knew if I looked in the right places I'd find what I needed."

"How'd you figure out this place was even down here?" wondered aloud Tecna suspiciously, "I doubt Destroismaisons ever told _anyone_ about his secret study underground. If so, this place would've been cleaned out and transformed into an exhibit like the rest of his villa."

Lewis smirked. "How'd _you_ find out about this place?" he asked, countering her question with another question. Tecna pressed her lips together. "Exactly. We _both_ have our own classified sources."

"I don't understand," said Bloom at last, setting her blue eyes on Lewis. "You're a bad guy. Why do you even care about the Black Serpents? Why do you care if they've risen from the dead or whatever? They're just another group you can sell stolen information to."

"Is that how you see me? A 'bad guy?' Sure, I might've gotten rid of a few people and made a few deals here and there, but does that really make me the bad person? And yes, I'm the biggest mole around and have frequently sold government secrets to the highest bidder, but that's all part of the job."

"Yeah, right. How do we even know you're not working with them now?" challenged Tecna.

"Let's be real for a minute, kid. Why do you even think those guys are even here? Because I refused to sale intel they wanted. If you're skimmed over record, you'll know in a heartbeat that that doesn't sound like me. _At all._ I usually _never_ turn down an offer— _especially_ not one as good-paying as the one they presented me with. But I did, because I know what these people are capable of. They're deadlier than anything I've ever encountered. And the fact that they're hunting me like prey because I turned them down proves it.

"Then we need to get you out of here," said Bloom thinly, _"now._ Enough about the Serpents—we'll discuss them later. Our top priority right now is taking you to the safe point."

Much to our surprise, Lewis finally stood up. "Lead the way." All of our eyes widened. "As I made clear a few seconds ago: these people are not to be played with. It's a miracle I've evaded them for so long. I need protection. And right now, ALFEA is the only one who can give it to me."

"Yes, but you _do_ realize justice will be handed to you and you'll be thrown in prison for at least 20 years, right?" I

Lewis shrugged. "It's no different to me. Once things have blown over and the Serpents are out of my radar, I'll escape without a trace like I always do." There was no smugness in his voice. This man was being absolutely real.

The rest of us exchanged _let's just go with it_ looks. "Okay, let's do this," said Bloom.

"We can't afford to go up through the library and lead him out of the museum," said Tecna, "we'll be easily spotted."

"Don't worry. There's another way out," announced Lewis. He walked over to one of the bookshelves and opened it, revealing another pair of stairs.

Tecna wrinkled her nose in disgust and muttered something about that being cliché as we hurried up the stairs. At the top of them was a hatch—one in which Lewis opened. We ducked through it, ending up in the garden. Roxy closed the door behind us, and it immediately blended in with the rest of it rest of the rock it was engraved in.

" _Guys?"_ exclaimed Stella and Flora, legit surprised to see us. I forgot they'd been trying to open the hatch the whole time.

"No time to explain," snapped Bloom, "we gotta move." She touched her ear communicator. "Tides, we're about to leave. Hurry to our position. Tides? _Tides_?" Aisha didn't reply. "Crap. Dancer, Sonic, go find Aisha," she ordered as the other girls were already ushering Lewis away. "Hurry. We don't have much time before the Serpents find us."

Musa and I nodded. "Take this." Musa handed Bloom her weapon. "You might need it."

And then we parted ways, Bloom and the others racing for the car while me and Musa sprinted for the north garden. The crowd was beginning to thin out now due to how late it was getting, so it was easy to scan the grounds. "Ugh, where is she?" mumbled Musa.

That was when I spotted it. I looked at the gate, which wasn't that far away. A rapist-looking white van was parked on the curb outside of it. Two men were loading something up into the back. Wait, actually it was _someone._ She were unmoving, completely still in their arms as they tossed her into the back and slammed the doors. _Aisha!  
_

Just as I was about to yell, a pair of hands suddenly appeared from behind and pressed a cloth against my nose. I got weak instantly. Trying to yell against the cloth, I attempted to take a step forward but ended up collapsing, my body leaning into someone else's.

And just like that, all went dark.

* * *

It's time to wake up, little Fairy." I don't know which woke me up; his voice or his _breath._ "Nap time's over." Yep, definitely his breath. It was hot against my skin and smelt like tobacco and last week's spoiled leftovers.

I knew I was restrained even before I fully awoke; I could feel my wrists tied uncomfortably behind the chair I was sitting in. Damn it. I'd been captured. I couldn't feel my communicator in my ear or the gun in my bra, _or_ my phone in my pocket, meaning they'd all been taken away from me.

I lifted my head as my vision slowly returned to me. The first thing I saw was the face a few centimeters away from my own. It was pale and hideous and belonging to a man with a disgusting grin and greasy-looking blond hair. Upon seeing I was awake, he took a few steps away from me, allowing me to take in my surroundings.

We were in a living room with barely any furniture, the only pieces being a tacky 90s sofa, an old coffee table in which my phone and gun set, and a tall lamp in the corner. The blinds were closed, the only light coming from the dim light overhead. My eyes immediately landed on Musa, who was also tied to a dining room chair nearby the door. Her arms were bound behind the back of it and she was blindfolded and gagged. There were several red cuts on her legs and a scrape on her right cheek was bleeding. Her head hung, limp. It looked like she'd been beaten.

"Musa? _Musa_! Wake up," I shouted at her. She didn't even flinch. "What did you do to her, you son of a bitch?" I yelled at Sour Breath.

He just cackled evilly and waggled a finger at me. "Nuh-uh, little Fairy. _I_ ask the questions here. And just be glad I didn't do to you what I did to her."

I gritted my teeth, anger boiling deep within me. "I'll kill you," I shouted at him.

Sour Breath just grinned evilly. " _I'm_ the only one who's doing the killing, my pretty. But don't be scared; if you cooperate, I _might_ let your friend live instead of killing you both."

I pressed my lips together. "What the _fuck_ do you want?"

"You know damn well what I want. I want to know where your little friends are taking _our_ prey," replied Sour Breath, circling around my chair as he suggestively fiddled with the knife in his grasp.

"You're a Black Serpent ," I hissed.

"And _you're_ a Fairy," countered Sour Face, his lips setting in a nasty scowl. "My job is never easy when it comes to you and your sisters. But _this_ time, _I_ have the upper hand. No one knows where you are, or even if you're dead or alive. They're not coming for you and even if they are, they'll never find you, meaning I can do _whatever I want_ with the two of you. I suggest you make this easy for yourself and talk. Guys like me are only patient for so long…"

"I don't know anything," I blurted, "I don't know where they're taking him." That was a lie. I knew _exactly_ where Bloom and the others were taking Lewis: _Interpol._ When you thought about it, that was the only obvious choice. It wasn't like we were going to take Lewis back to our hotel with us. No, it was our job to deliver him to Interpol, who would ship him back to NYC in a highly reinforced airplane. Once Interpol had him, no one—not even the black cobras—would be able to get their hands on him. But _getting_ there was a whole other story. The station was a good fifteen minutes away from the museum, meaning the Winx had to drive Lewis there. I could only imagine what kind of high-speed car chase they were engaged in with the Serpents at the moment. I could only pray anyone but Stella was at the wheel. She was a shittier driver than my grandmother, who was constantly rolling over the curb every few minutes. If she was driving, I feared for the success of our mission. Hopefully, they'd gotten to Interpol already. I didn't know how long I'd been out of it; it could've been _hours_ since I last saw Bloom and the others. But I knew one thing for sure: if Sour Breath here was trying to figure out where the other Winx had taken Lewis, the other Black Serpents didn't have him. Yet.

There was a dangerous glint in Sour Breath's eyes. "Ah, I see. We're doing things _that_ way, huh? That's fine with me," he said calmly. He slowly proceeded over to me, flashing his shiny knife. I braced myself for whatever was about to happen. I knew how situations like these worked; this bastard was about to inflict a hell of a lot of pain on me in an attempt to break me. He thought torturing me was going to get me to tell what he wanted to hear. Well, it wasn't going to work. If this guy really did have experience with Fairies, he should've known such cheap tactics wouldn't break my silence.

I glared at him fiercely as he bent down so my face was at level with his. There was a repulsive look on his face as he searched my own for any signs of terror or pleads of mercy. When he found neither, he hissed and ran the tip of his blade along my cheekbone, leaving behind a series of puncture marks. I winced at the pain, making Sour Breath give a disgusting laugh. "Did that hurt?" he snickered, standing straighter and taking a step back as his face softened with sick satisfaction. "Trust me, there's way more where that came from, sister. Every time you resist, I'll give you another punishment, each one more painful than the last."

"I'm not afraid of you," I spat.

"That's what they all say. We'll see in a minute when I have you _and_ your little friend screaming in pain."

As he started away from me and toward Musa, I tugged at the binds on my wrists desperately. Much to my surprise, they lightly pulled apart. Ha! Leave it to the bad guys and their shitty knot-tying skills. If I worked these ropes a little bit more, they should come undone. I just needed to buy some time…

"Leave her alone!" I shouted before Sour Breath could lay a greasy finger on Musa.

He paused and turned to face me. "Why should I? _You_ won't talk, so maybe she will. That is, if you're having second thoughts."

"Who even _are_ you?" I scowled nastily, disguising the hope in my voice with aggression. "Who are you working for?"

Sour Breath smirked at me. "Wouldn't you love to know? But I can still ya one thing: you little girls are in way over your head this time. You don't stand a chance against us. That's why you should go ahead and tell me what I want to know or else you'll be in _deep_ trouble."

"We'll see about that," I said icily, "what makes you think you're so superior to us, anyway?"

Ha, did THAT get him talking, which was a GOOD thing for me. I used this to my advantage; every time he turned his back to me or even simply averted his eyes for a second or two, I tugged on my restraints, loosening them as much as I could before Sour Breath refocused on me.

"Enough talk on my part," he announced, approaching me again as he spun the knife around in his hand. "I wanna hear what _you_ gotta say. "Where are your friends taking Lewis?"

"Ha, like I'd tell you," I laughed rudely, "you'll never get anything—not even a _shit_ —out of me, you prick."

Sour Breath gritted his teeth. _"Bitch,"_ he growled, backhanding me across the face. The chair I was tied to fell sideways and my shoulder collided with the floor. "Talk, girl," he barked looming over me. Now that I was on the ground, he started kicking me around, over and over again; in the stomach, in the legs, in the ribs. Wherever it'd hurt. I refused to scream, biting down on my tongue to keep myself from crying out. He was NOT getting a rouse out of me. This was obviously annoying him and he responded by kicking me straight in the mouth. My mouth immediately filled with blood and it all came rushing out onto the carpet.

"Ha. Is that all you got?" I said, spitting out some more blood.

Sour Face was pissed now. I thought he was about to crouch down and stab me until Musa suddenly gave a muffled scream behind her gag. Though Sour Breath was standing in front of me and obstructing my view of her, I could see her lower half shifting and struggling in her try, fighting against her binds.

"Ah. Looks like the other one had woken up," said Sour Breath, calming down. "Let's see if _she'll_ talk." And forgetting all about me, started over to her. I started working my own binds again as he walked toward my restrained friend. The ropes loosened more and more. _Almost there_. Just a little bit more…

Meanwhile, Sour Breath tore off Musa's blindfold and the cloth that had been tied around her mouth. "Let us go, you creep!" she shouted the second her gag came off.

"Now, now, Fairy. All in due time. Just answer my questions and everything will be alright," cooed Sour Breath, corkscrewing the tip of his knife near the corner of Musa's mouth. "Or you'll end up like your friend over there."

"What did you do, you prick?" demanded Musa.

"Nothing _too_ severe. Just play along and you'll be fine, kid."

Musa laughed harshly. "It's a cold day in hell before I say _anything_ to you, pal."

"You too, eh?" Sour Breath took a few steps away from her with a sneer on his face. A second later, he was whirling around and thrusting a _fist_ directly at Musa's eye. I heard her grunt in pain as her rickety chair violently fell backward. I finally got my wrists free at the same moment, but didn't move just yet. I continued playing possum on the carpet, waiting for the right moment. I couldn't afford to budge now. Sour Breath was too close to Musa. If he knew I was free, he'd just use Musa as leverage and threaten me into submission.

"Bastard!" I screamed before the thug could get brutal with my helpless ally. "Get away from her! Come over here and put your shitty little hands on _me_."

Sour Breath took the bait. "I'm _through_ playing games with you," he snarled, stomping over to me. He came to a stop behind my chair. Right as he was grabbing my hair, I acted. I drew my hands foreword, yanking my elbows back into his gut the hardest I could. He dropped the knife and doubled over. I bolted for the gun on the table. Sour Breath acted fast, managing to sweep a leg out and trip me. "Look out!" cried out Musa.

I turned over onto my back to see Sour Breath lunging at me with his reclaimed blade, ready to stab a bitch. I threw both of my legs up and countered his attack, ramming both of my feet into his arm and trying to push him away. Now gripping the knife with both hands, Sour Breath pushed against my feet, aiming the tip of the knife straight at my chest. Using a sudden burst of strength, I managed to shove him off me and knock the knife out of his hands. This time, it was my turn to lunge at _him._ I threw myself at the guy, tacking him to the floor.

Our fight immediately turned into a wrestling match, the both of us rolling around in a tangled mess while we tried to poke each other's eyes out. Sour Breath managed to overpower me, ending up on top of my body. He turned me _over_ and grabbed my the back of my head, banging my forehead down against the floor _hard._ My head exploded in pain as it collided into the hard surface over and over and over. Musa started screaming and I felt myself losing consciousness. Something warm gushed down into my eye. Blood. My head was bleeding.

" _Get off,"_ I screamed. I pushed myself upward, tossing him off. But he didn't fly and ended up charging at me again. I leapt out of the way, losing my balance and dropping onto the floor. He launched himself at me _again_ , but missed as I rolled out of the way. I ended up stopping in front of the table. Still lying on the floor, I reached up and felt around on its surface for the handgun as Sour Breath reclaimed his knife to retaliate. The second I felt the stock of the gun, I grabbed it and pointed it straight at Sour Face right as he was looming over me to attack again. "Drop it," I ordered, aiming the muzzle straight at his forehead.

He gritted his teeth and gave a low growl. However, he obeyed, letting the knife drop from his grasp and onto the carpet. I slowly sat up and then rose to my feet, still training the gun at the goon as he took a few steps back. "Get on the ground," I directed next.

Without saying anything, he did as he was told and sat. "Your little pals kidnapped one of allies," I said thinly, "where did they take her?"

Sour Breath gave me a weak shrug in return. "I dunno. I wasn't told anything about that, honest."

I clicked my tongue distastefully, taking a step closer to him. "Wrong answer." I kicked him across the face. He landed on his side with a tortured grunt.

He stared up at me pleadingly as I stood over him, readying to pull the trigger. "Please, kid. I-I'm only doing my job," he quivered.

"I know. And so am I." The only sound that proceeded afterward was me firing at his forehead. I turned away from him just as his lifelessly body went limp.

I walked over to Musa, pulling her chair upright and then untying her. "You okay?" I asked dully.

"Are _you_?" asked Musa, staring at what was probably a big-ass lump on my head.

"I've been better. Now let's move before more come." I grabbed my phone, stuffed the gun back in my cleavage, and wrenched the front door open. The two of us staggered out into what was a quiet hallway of an apartment building. We tottered out of the nondescript building and onto a familiar Parisian street. I recognized where we were; we drove down this street on our way to Musée Alphonse. In fact, the museum should've been right around the corner. Not that we needed to be going _there_ again. Regardless, Musa and I headed off in that direction on our aching feet.

I tossed the gun down the first sewer we came across—I didn't want or need it anymore. I forwarded all the Winx—even Aisha—a few texts, but no one responded. That couldn't be good.

"We need to save Aisha ASAP," said Musa as we rounded the corner.

"Yeah, but we don't know where she is," I reminded between fast breaths. "We need help. Wait. Hold on." I paused in the middle of the sidewalk.

"What is it?" Musa stopped too.

"Nereus. He should be somewhere over here," I recalled, "he can help us."

Musa's eyebrows flew up. "Do you think so? We were just holding him at gunpoint not that long ago."

"Yeah, but this is his _cousin_. He loves her. There's no way he'd just… _leave_ her to suffer at the hands of the Serpents."

Musa bit her lip. "I guess. Text him."

I nodded. After bombing the Winx with a few more texts, I shot one at Nereus:

 **Acadia:** _R u still in the area?_

Followed by:

 **Acadia:** _AISHA'S IN TROUBLE._

Nereus texted me back in ten seconds:

 **Nereus:** What happened?

 **Acadia:** _KIDNAPPED. PLZ HURRY. BRING A CAR._

 **Nereus:** _Where r u?_

I looked up from my phone. The first thing I saw was the Chanel store across the street.

 **Acadia:** _the Chanel store nearby the museum. HURRY._

 **Nereus:** _I'm coming. Don't move._

 **Acadia:** _K, just hurry!_

"He's coming," I told Musa. She nodded.

It wasn't then until I noticed how badly the both of us were trembling. We were in bad shape. My heart was hammering like crazy in my head. My throat was tight and dry. The metallic and salty taste of blood still lingered in my mouth from when I'd been kicked in the lip. The blood on the side of my face had already dried and hardened. There were a few bruises on my arms and legs, but nothing too severe. I stole a few glances at Musa. She wasn't any better; she had quite a few red cuts on her legs and her left eye was rimmed with purple. Her hair was messed up and wild, sticking out at odd angles. Both of our dresses had a few tears in them and we could barely hold ourselves up in our heels. We were a mess. A few passersby were giving us looks of disgust, confusion, and pity, but thankfully no one said anything to us. Though, at the same time, I found it insulting. All of these people were witnessing young women who looked like they'd just been abused, but no one bothering to _at least_ if we were okay.

Well, we _weren't._ My head was pounding like hell and I felt a little dizzy and light. Fuck. I think I had a concussion. "Let's sit down," I suggested, gesturing toward the convenient public bench next to the light newspaper kiosk. The last thing I wanted was to lose my balance and fall on the sidewalk like an idiot. Musa just nodded and we both quietly took a seat. A rush of relief coursed through me the second my butt met the hard surface of the bench, but I still felt crappy. Trying to ignore my aching body, I lifted my head to the sky. I hadn't noticed how cloudy the night sky had gotten. I saw a flash of lightning light up the sky for a few seconds and then a loud clap of thunder followed. A storm was coming, though the air was hot. That was usually how it was.

Man, I felt like shit. Still trying to distract myself from the pain, I looked around. For it to be so late there was still quite a few people out on the street, which was bathed in golden light from the surrounding buildings and streetlights. The outdoor sitting area of the restaurant next door to the closed Chanel store across the street was even packed. The customers sitting under the awning looked like they were enjoying themselves as they merrily sipped on glasses of wine and conversed with their friends. Man, what I'd give to be over there right now. I'd _destroy_ a bottle of red wine. Hell, maybe two or three. On the plane ride here, Stella had promised we'd luxuriate in the best Paris had to offer. She said we'd go shopping at that popular shopping wall, Les Quatre Temps, go wine tasting at the city's finest wine bars, order one of everything at the best-rated bakeries, cycle around the iconic garden of Champs de Mars and then have a picnic in the spot that gave the best view of the Eiffel Tower. She said we'd do it all. She said this trip wouldn't only be about arresting Lewis; she said we'd make the most of our time here in beautiful Paris. Well, we were making the most of it all right.

I checked my phone repeatedly and impatiently, hoping I had a new update from one of the Winx. Unfortunately, I had zero new messages. Five minutes had passed since I sent Nereus that last text. Hopefully, he was close. If Nereus loved and cared for Aisha just as much as she did toward him, I was more than positive that he was rushing over here. Now all we could do was wait.

"Do you think the other Winx are in the clear?" I asked Musa, aiming to pass the time by starting a conversation.

Musa shrugged. "I honestly don't think so. People are _after_ Lewis and as obviously proven, they'll go at any length to capture him. For all we know, the other girls have been…." She didn't finish. She didn't want to talk. I wouldn't try to force a conversation.

All was silent once again. I checked my phone over and over. I watched as one minute passed, three, and then five. _Hurry the fuck up, Nereus,_ I willed. Every minute that went by could be another minute Aisha was beaten, tortured, or _worse._ Guys like her captors didn't fuck around. Eventually, it finally started raining, though just barely. A few cold raindrops landed against my arms, prickling my skin like needles.

When I couldn't take it anymore, I grabbed my phone and composed a new text to Nereus. However, just when I was about to hit SEND, the sound of an engine roaring caught both of our attentions. Musa sat up straighter and I held off forwarding the text. A car hadn't passed through this street ever since Musa and I been here, meaning that _had_ to be Aisha's cousin. We watched as a shiny black Cadillac Escalade rounded the corner further down the street and raced toward us. It stopped along the curb in front of us, the engine still running. The window on the passenger side went down and I saw Nereus's face. "Acadia?" he called out.

I leapt to my feet. "C'mon, Musa." I wrenched the passenger-side door open and hopped in while Musa climbed into the back. The AC inside was blasting cool air, which I was thankful for. While I took a minute to breathe and recollect myself, Nereus stared at me with bulging eyes.

"What _happened_ to you?" he demanded, though in a concerned way. He was still in his suit from earlier, but without the jacket.

"You don't wanna know. That's Musa, by the way." I gestured toward Musa in back.

Musa gave a small wave but didn't smile. "Hi."

Nereus glanced between us both. "Who did this to you?"

"Don't worry about it. He's dead anyway," said Musa emotionlessly.

Anyone else would've started freaking out at this point, but Nereus showed no signs of panic. Instead, his face was filled with nothing but curiosity and worry. I knew he probably wanted to ask a million questions; about us, about our objectives, about our _identity._ But thankfully, he put aside all of them and only concerned himself with the one that mattered the most. _"Where's my cousin?"_

I bit my lip as he shifted into drive and proceeded down the quiet street as the rain picked up, pelting the windows and making the streets look glossy. "We don't know. Last we saw, she was being kidnapped but then we were kidnapped."

"Our ex-captor didn't know where she is either," added Musa, "only that she got taken to a 'secondary location.'" She sounded faraway, distracted. I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She was staring out of her window. Curious as to what she was looking at, I glanced out of my own to see we were coming up to the apartment we'd just escaped from. Several flashing police cars and an ambulance were now parked in front of it and the whole perimeter was already marked in police tape. Pajama-clad men, women, and children—who'd I assumed to mostly be the residents—were idling all along the block, hugging each other close and conversing with the police. Upon seeing the police, Nereus reduced speed and as the car drove by, I caught a glimpse of the EMTs carrying a stretcher out of the building, a sheet-covered, unmoving body resting on it. Though the body was hidden over the white sheet, I knew it belonged—well, did belong to Sour Breath. One of the residents must've heard the commotion we were making and called the police. It was a good thing Musa and I got out of there before the authorities arrived; now they had no way of connecting us to Sour Breath's murder.

The car went deadly silent, the only sounds being the unrelenting rainfall and the window wipers sweeping across the windshield as Musa and I stared at the scene, refusing to tear out eyes away. I immediately spotted Hoodie Guy, who was standing among the crowd with his hood on and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie. Just as Nereus's car was rolling by, Hoodie Guy turned and stared directly at me. I stared back. I know Musa saw him too, but neither of us said anything. Realizing how tense the both of us were, Nereus stayed quiet until the whole scene was well behind us. "Could it be nearby?" he asked at last.

I regained my focus. Forget about Hoodie Guy, forget about Sour Breath, and even forget about Bloom and the others. Right now, our job was to find Aisha. "I have no idea, but there's a strong possibility."

"Yeah," agreed Musa, "all three of us were captured Musée Alphonse and the location our kidnapper had taken us to was super-close to it for the sake of a quick interrogation. I'm sure Aisha's case is the same. She's definitely in the area; we just have to find out where."

I was getting restless. Aisha wasn't answering her phone, which meant she couldn't get to it, which also meant she still had to be a hostage. And if she was still a hostage, she was being pressed for answers, just as Musa and I were—in violent and painful ways. Aisha was one of the most loyal agents in all of ALFEA—she wasn't going to submit to the bad guy no matter what they did to her. That would only encourage her detainers to only get more extreme with their methods of "punishment" and though Aisha was as tough as they came, even she could only take so much. "What are we supposed to do—" Before I could finish, my phone suddenly bleeped in my lap, startling the living daylights out of me. I just got a new text message! A sob almost welled in my throat. That had to be from one of the Winx, confirming they were alive and well.

"Who is that?" asked Musa alertly, leaning forward in her seat to peer over my shoulder

"Let me see," I said. Excited, I unlocked the screen and navigated to my recent messages, the glow from my phone illuminating the whole front seat. My heart sank immediately when I discovered my next text wasn't from any of our friends. Instead, the sender was just a jumble of numbers and random characters. Who the hell was this?

I opened the note anyway. And the message attached only had a single line of text. It looked like…an address? And it was signed…T. Tip.

"Acadia? What is it?" asked Nereus vigilantly, noticing how unnerved I looked. All I could do was flash the screen at him. After stopping the car at a streetlight, he leaned closer toward me to read the message. He arched an eyebrow in confusion, easing back into his seat. "T?"

"T?" repeated Musa. "Let me see." I passed the phone to her over my shoulder. She gasped. "Could this be Tip?" she asked me. "How the hell do they have your phone number?"

"Tip?" repeated Nereus as the light turned green.

I was just as clueless. "The hell if I know. Try sending something back."

I heard Musa's fingernails tapping against the screen. "What?" she muttered.

"What?" asked me and Nereus simultaneously.

"I can't send anything back. It's a one-way communication." She handed the phone back to me.

I stared down at the text on-screen. "This is an address," I said as realization dawned over me, "this has to be where Aisha is."

"How can you be sure? You don't even know who that is," pointed out Nereus, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Yeah, but he's the reason we're even here in the first place," admitted Musa.

"That's a bad thing, right?" Nereus found Musa's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Not really; we needed to come to Paris. And so did the bad guys. But anyway, this person, T, is the reason our mission has a chance of being successful. He or she really proved to be helpful tonight. And something tells me they're not about to lead us astray now," I said. "Aisha's got to be at this address."

"Are you sure?" Nereus glanced at me seriously.

"Definitely. Musa?"

"Without a doubt. This is all we have to go on."

Nereus nodded. "Then let's not waste any time."

* * *

Two things about Androses: not only were they exercise addicts, but they were all also badasses behind the wheel. Musa and I discovered this not long after Nereus keyed the address into the in-dash navigator. As soon as he had it locked in, he wrenched the wheel to the left and made a sharp U-turn. After that, Musa and I found ourselves holding on to the grab handle as he jammed the wheel to the left, right, and left again, swerving in and out of traffic, inching the speedometer up and down, up and down.

About five minutes later, he was upshifting into park in front of a nondescript apartment building. He unclipped his seatbelt, looking straight at me. "Stay here," he said firmly. He no longer wore the face of an overprotective, concerned, innocent cousin. Now, all I saw was the serious face of a man who was about to go handle some business and kick some ass.

"Hell no," protested Musa and I instantly, unbuckling our belts as well. "Aisha's our comrade and our close friend," said Musa, matching Nereus's strict tone. "She'd come to our rescue, so we'll do the same."

Thankfully, Nereus didn't argue. "Stay behind me," was all he said as he swung his door open. The three of us stepped out onto the wet Paris street and onto the sidewalk in front of another apartment building. I peered through one of the glass doors into the dark lobby. "How are we gonna get inside? You have to be buzzed—"

Musa was already pushing the other door open. "French locks are just as easy to pick as American locks," she said with a little grin. Almost forgot Musa was an expert at breaking and entering. "C'mon," she whispered, ushering us inside. The lobby was empty, so it was easy for us to find the door that led to a set of worn stairs. We all hurried up them, the risers creaking.

"Which one?" asked Nereus as we made it to the first landing, greeted by a line of doors.

I checked my phone again. "Twenty-one. That should be upstairs."

We climbed another flight of stairs, coming to a second landing. Since the doors were arranged in numerical order, it didn't take us long for us to find #21.

Nereus grasped the doorknob, but looked at us before turning it. "Stay behind me," he directed emotionlessly.

Musa and I nodded.

Nereus swung the door open (gotta love how goons refuse to lock the door) and seemed to fly into the room. Musa and I jumped into the doorway to see five thick-ass goons already charging at Nereus. Then everything happened in an instant.

Nereus immediately launched his foot at the face of the closest thug, his shoe meeting the guy's jaw with a satisfying crack. Thug #1 hit the ground right away and Nereus leapt over him, spinning in the air and slashing Thug #2 right across the face. Thug #3 rushed at me and Musa, but Nereus swept his leg out when he landed, tripping the guy. Before Thug #3 could even drop to the ground, Nereus was grabbing his leg, lifting him, and throwing him at Thug #4. The both of them flew into the wall, meanwhile Nereus was snapping Thug #5's neck. Before Numbers #3 and #4 could retaliate, Nereus was slapping tranquilizer patches (a good spy always carried a couple or two on them just in case) on them, putting them to sleep.

Now that the thugs were out of the way, Musa and I rushed in. Just as the door was clicking closed behind us, I heard something.

I froze. "Do you hear that?" I hissed lowly.

The room went silent as Nereus and Musa paused too, listening out for any possible sounds. There it was again: a thin and barely-audible cry. Then there were faint pounding sounds. Then another cry. And then a muffled scream. Someone was definitely here.

"Aisha?" called out Nereus. The cry was louder this time. The three of us spread out to search the apartment.

"Aisha? Where are you?" I called. The cries were getting louder and louder, closer and closer. I walked into the plain bedroom and my eyes immediately found the closet door in the corner. "Guys! In here," I yelled, running around the bed and to the close, pulling on the knob. As soon as the door opened, I cried out in relief—and in astonishment. There was Aisha herself, sitting on the floor with her mouth gagged and ankles and wrists tied up. And she wasn't alone. Huddled up against her were none other than the Trix, each one of them restrained like Aisha and crying out behind their gags. All four of them were staring at me imploringly.

Nereus and Musa came running in just as I was pulling Aisha out of the closet. "Aisha!" cried out Musa in relief as she and Nereus rushed over to help me untie her. As soon as I peeled the duct tape off her mouth, Aisha doubled over and starting coughing. "About time," she said, her voice strangled as I held her up. "I wasn't sure I was gonna last another minute with them. I was kinda hoping someone would come and drug me to knock me out again."

Nereus was about to go help the Trix, but Musa stopped him. "They don't deserve our help. They're bad people. Two of them almost killed us tonight."

I glared down at the Trix, who were staring at me demandingly and pleadingly. I cracked a small smile. "Not today, ladies. Have fun in there." And with that, I shut the door, ignoring their cries and pounds. Someone was gonna find them. Eventually.

Aisha glanced at her cousin. "Nereus," she said thinly.

He matched her tone. "Aisha."

"Hell no, we're not doing this now," intervened Musa firmly, "this is not the time for family therapy. Right now, we need to move our asses before the police come."

Just as we were turning to leave, my phone began to ring. A happy sob welled in my throat when I saw Bloom on the caller ID. I don't think I ever answered a call faster in my life. "Bloom!" I screamed joyously even before I had the phone up to my ear.

Musa whirled around so faster than I could take my next breath, her eyes bugging out of her head.

"Acadia!" Bloom sounded just as ecstatic and comforted at the sound of my voice. "You're okay!" And then to someone in the background she said, "Guys! She's okay!" I heard Stella, Roxy, Flora, and Tecna let out whoops of delight. "Where are Musa and Aisha? Are they there with you?"

"Yes, yes! We're all okay! What about you guys? Did we…?"

Bloom laughed. "Yes! We did! As we speak, Interpol is taking care of Lewis right now. They're shipping him back to ALFEA first thing in the morning." My heart leapt with joy. So we were victorious after all! "So where are you guys?" asked Bloom, "let's meet up."

* * *

We rode in silence. Comfortable silence on Musa's and I's part, not so much on Nereus's and Aisha's. I could feel the tension crackling between them the whole car ride. I knew their relationship was going to be strained from here on out, that much was inevitable. How could it not? I didn't even think Aisha so much as glanced at Nereus the whole trip; she sat in the back with Musa, not tearing her eyes out of the window, of which she stared out with a pinched look on her face. From what I could tell, Nereus didn't look any better; his jaw was clenched the whole time and he kept a tight grip on the steering wheel. I kind of felt bad for them. They were close as siblings and thought they knew everything there was to know about each other—until now. I bet neither of them would've ever guessed the other was a spy.

When Nereus pulled into a parking lot, Aisha didn't even give him time to shift into park. She swung her door open and hopped out while the car was still in motion and walked—more like stormed across the asphalt, which was still glossy even though the rain had let up some time ago. At that same moment, Stella's rental SUV was making a tire-squealing turn into the other side of the parking lot. Musa and I climbed out of the Escalade as well. We didn't thank Nereus, which probably made us look like bitches, but we didn't know the guy or what his deal was. Sure, he was a friend today, but he could be an enemy tomorrow. But we were grateful for his help.

The SUV made a dramatic stop in the middle of the asphalt and all the doors flew open at once. All the Winx ran to us toward us and we all collided in a hug, everyone talking at once.

"Girls! What happened to you? You look terrible!" asked Bloom, her eyes wide with concern.

"What happened to your dresses? They look horrible," said Stella, equally as horrified.

I noticed how one of the SUV's side-view mirrors had been shot out. Ha. I knew they got into a car chase. While Musa exchanged explanations and more hugs with the girls, I glanced at Aisha. She was staring at Nereus's car, which was now turning out of the lot. Her eyes followed it until it completely disappeared down the street. She no longer wore an irate look on her face; it'd been replaced by a hurt expression. Poor Aisha. Just when I was about to comfort her, my phone suddenly shimmied in my pocket. Mom was on the caller ID.

I strayed from the girls, pressing the phone against my ear. "Hey, Mom."

"Acadia! Hi!" Mom's voice was cheery and upbeat. "How are you, darling? Are you and your friends enjoying yourselves?"

I knew something was up the second she called me "darling." I almost questioned why she was calling me at two in the morning but then I remembered that Paris was six hours ahead of New York, making it eight at night over there. I also remembered that she, as well as all of the Winx's parents, thought we were in upstate New York on a weekend retreat at one of the Solaria estates. Man, if only that were true. "Uh, great," I said nervously, hoping Mom wouldn't hear how somewhat strangled my voice was. To her knowledge, I'd spent the past few hours at the spa or something instead of violently being interrogated by a murderous thug and almost meeting my end on several occasions.

Mom laughed. "No need to sound so nervous. I already know you and your friends have been drinking. I know you're responsible, so I'm not worried." Something was DEFINITELY wrong. Since when did my mother approve of me drinking? "I actually called because I have some great news! "Guess what?" She didn't even give me time to answer. _"I'm pregnant!"_

I swear it felt like I got hit by a Mack Truck. I was so taken aback all I could do was stammer. "Wha-what?" My brain was barely processing this, I was that shocked.

"You're going to be a big sister all over again! Don't tell Raelyn, though. Matt hasn't told her the good news yet. I just know she's going to be excited!"

My heart was beating at 100 miles an hour as realization dawned over me. Mom was pregnant by Matt. Matt was Raelyn's dad. If Matt had another child, that'd make it Raelyn's sibling. If Mom had another child, that'd make it my sibling. If Mom and Matt had another child together, that'd mean Raelyn and I would both be its half-sibling. Raelyn and I were going to be related to the same baby.

Wait. So if Mom was pregnant by Matt, who was Raelyn's dad, then that meant this new baby, my new sibling, shared the same dad as Raelyn and the same mom as me, meaning Raelyn and I were both going to be its half-sibling . It was going to share blood with the both of us. Raelyn and I were going to be related to the same kid.

 _ **WHAT THE FUCK—**_


End file.
